The Hunger Games: Embers
by Lord Winterman
Summary: To Soryn Lockwood, survival is not a game; it is a lifestyle. Against conditions set by the Capitol, the wills of the other tributes, and the odds and obstacles that seek to bring them down, who will be the last one standing? Hunger Games: Embers is a fan-fic depicting the Seventh Hunger Games. I do not own the Hunger Games; all property belongs to its respective owners.
1. Chapter 1

"_All Capitol Forces take heed: District Thirteen has been neutralized. Suppression of hostile forces within the remaining districts is now authorized."  
_  
\- Bulletin from General Bernardus Valerii, commander of the Capitol Military Forces and acting President of Panem.

/-\\\

Soryn Lockwood stared out into the starry night, lying in the grass outside the Widow's Peak of District Twelve.

Ever since Soryn's Mom and Dad left to go help with the war effort, his Uncle Marty had stepped in to look after him. And since he did not enforce the house rules as heavily as his parents did, Soryn often stayed out past dark in the meadow looking at the stars, allowing his imagination to run loose, sometimes wondering what it would be like to travel beyond the planet he was currently bound to.

While there were plenty of places for to do this sort of thing, the meadow was a place of tranquility to escape the doom and gloom that permeated District Twelve. With the rebellion in full swing, Soryn stayed out even later than when the Capitol's Peacekeepers patrolled the district, but eventually he had to get home before his uncle came out to look for him.

Satisfied with his time in the meadow, Soryn headed back home. His uncle often punished him when he stayed out this late, but he was not extremely creative with his disciplinary actions.

At first, he would just send Soryn to his room, but became frustrated when he would escape the room with almost no effort. After that, he locked Soryn's window in a way that it could not be opened from the inside. Even then, he still had plenty of things to do in his room, things he kept hidden from his uncle extremely well.

When he came within view of his house, Soryn noticed his uncle was still awake. Taking a deep breath, he walked through the front door, bracing himself for whatever punishment his uncle could throw at him. He would probably lock him in his room until lunch the next day and then let him out to do chores. There could also be a meeting with the belt.

Soryn walked in the door, but instead of standing and staring at the door with his look of disapproval, Uncle Marty was rushing about the house, in his combat harness. Soryn stood at the doorway, wondering what was happening. Soryn had seen him do something similar to this before when the rebel forces did drills, but the look in Uncle Marty's eyes indicated something more than a field exercise.

After a while, Marty noticed Soryn. "Soryn, get your evac bag." Marty said with a tone that bordered on panic. Soryn hesitated for a moment, so Marty reinforced his order.

"Soryn, we have maybe two minutes before the Capitol arrives and I want you out of the combat zone as quickly as possible, so grab your bag and head to the safe house, NOW!" 

Spurred by this revelation, Soryn ran to his room and picked up his bag from underneath his bed, and grabbed a picture of his family before heading back to the kitchen for whatever else his uncle had to say. As he walked down the hall, an explosion shook the ground. "They're ahead of schedule." Marty muttered to himself. "Let's go!" his uncle shouted as he got into the kitchen.

Uncle Marty grabbed Soryn's hand and headed to the door, which was opened with a swift kick. Marty shouldered his rifle, scanning the area for threats. When Marty was satisfied, he beckoned Soryn to follow.

As the two made their way down the street, a Capitol hovercraft began firing missiles into the neighborhood. While the hovercraft fired its salvo, Capitol troops began dropping down and began firing at the rebels who were coming out to oppose them. Marty aimed at the nearest enemy soldier and fired, nailing him right between the eyes. Marty fired two more shots, and two more enemy soldiers fell to the ground dead.

Soryn and Uncle Marty began weaving through the houses, passing by squads of rebels that were preparing for battle. Capitol soldiers continued to pour into the Widow's Peak, engaging the rebels. Initially, the combat seemed one-sided in the favor of the Capitol, but as more rebels came to meet the invaders, the fighting came to a standstill.

Rounding a corner, they nearly ran into a Capitol soldier. Marty reacted first, knocking the man's helmet off with a single punch. Stunned, the Capitol soldier tried to locate his attacker, throwing a series of wild punches in their general direction.

Marty intercepted one of the punches, grabbed the man's wrist, twisted it, threw him over his shoulder, and sending him to the ground, finishing him off by stomping on his windpipe. The scuffle drew the attention of two more soldiers who spotted Marty and began shooting down the road.

A squad of rebels arrived, drawing their attention. One of the soldiers went down in a hail of gunfire, his mangled body falling messily to the dirt. The other soldier dove out of the way and began fire shots from around his cover. The rebel squad split, with one half maintaining their position while the other moved up.

The Capitol soldier figured out what was happening and fired a grenade at the approaching squad, killing three of them and wounding two more. Marty shouldered his rifle and took aim.

While the other rebels were keeping the soldier pinned down, Marty lined up his sights on where he estimated the soldier had hidden himself behind cover. Pulling the trigger, he sent a round through the wall.

The rebel squad's leader signaled his men to stop firing. A moment later, the soldier's body slumped out from behind his cover, with a hole punched into where the bullet had passed through his shoulder and into his chest. The rebels went to tend to their comrades as Soryn and Marty continued to make their way to the safe house.

A squadron of hovercraft began a strafing run, chain-guns spewing out a hail of gunfire, tearing up houses and rebels alike. Marty kicked Soryn to the dirt and dived to the opposite direction. The hovercraft passed overhead, reducing houses to rubble. Soryn lifted himself up slowly, taking care to avoid gunfire, and went to check his uncle.

Marty slid up next to the nearest house, trying to remain steady as explosions shook the ground beneath them. It was not hard for Soryn to notice the blood pooling around his Uncle. Marty had taken a grazing shot when the hovercraft passed overhead during their strafing run, and while he was still alive, his hip had been blown apart.

Soryn crawled towards his uncle. From what he had seen from all of the patients his mom had tended to, his uncle was not likely to survive. Marty waved him back and pulled out his sidearm, continuing to fire down the street, providing suppressing fire for the other rebels who were still in the fight with a fire in his eyes. One shot caught a Capitol soldier in the chest, while another took one to the shoulder.

After minute, the gun slipped from Marty's hand. Soryn scrambled towards his uncle, reloaded the pistol, and handed it back to him. A small hint of a smile passed over his uncle's face before he went back to firing.

More rebels came out from behind Soryn and engaged the Capitol troops, quickly cleaning whittling them down and forcing them to retreat. Even though the rebels were pretty jubilant at their small victory, Soryn knew that something worse was just around the corner. Soryn looked back at his uncle.

Marty's body had gone limp, his eyes still open with an intense glare that he had when in the middle of combat. Soryn closed his eyes just like he had seen his Mom do when someone had died on her operation table, his hand quivering as adrenaline pumped through his veins.

While finding people who had dropped dead in the streets was not uncommon, he had never seen anyone in his family die. As tears began to reach Soryn's eyes, another explosion rocked the ground, followed by a wave of heat. The Capitol was torching the Widow's Peak.

Jumping to his feet, Soryn took one last look at his uncle before turning to run towards the safe house. Soryn leapt from side to side, dodging the flames that began to sweep through the neighborhood, keeping close to the ground to avoid the smoke that began to obscure his vision.

He was grateful that his uncle had taught him this route blindfolded, otherwise he would have been turned around and would have probably run straight into a fireball. The going was slow as Soryn navigated the burning neighborhood, when he began to think that he might have actually become lost, he spotted the safe house.

Calling upon his last reserves of strength, he began sprinting towards the safe house, until a screeching missile cut through the ground and exploded, knocking him on his back. Getting up to one knee and saw what remained of the safe house: a smoldering crater.

There was no screaming as the blaze consumed the ruins. Anyone who had been quick enough to get to the safe house had only locked themselves inside a deathtrap.

Soryn picked his family's picture back up and placed it in his pocket and slung his pack over his shoulder. With nowhere else to go, he began to look for a way out of the inferno, moving down the street and avoiding the toxic fumes while dodging the collapsing buildings.

Despite his best efforts, Soryn was still breathing in smoke, causing him to lose his pack when he stumbled forward. While he crawled through the dirt, coughing, he spotted the end of the inferno. Pushing himself beyond what his little body could normally handle, he ran towards the clearing. With each step, the smoke seemed to clear a little, and Soryn ran a little faster, still dodging the flames as they leapt out at him.

When he finally felt like he was almost to safety, an explosion knocked him to the ground. A lance of searing heat and pain made Soryn let out a scream as he rolled around on the ground to douse the flames. Squirming in agony, he pursed his lips to avoid alerting more of the remaining Capitol troops to his location.

With the dirt aggravating his wound, Soryn got up again to head to safety, which now seemed even farther than it was before. He could not muster the effort to run, so he walked, ignoring the searing pain at his back. With a blank expression on his face, Soryn stepped towards relief from the horrible nightmare he was in.

Stepping out of the blaze, he struggled to stay upright, taking in a breath of fresh, allowing his head to clear a little. He continued onward, walking in a trance, barely standing as fatigue gripped his small frame.

Soryn finally dropped down, clear of the inferno's path, and turned around, watching as the blaze consumed his neighborhood, with Capitol hovercraft raining down more firebombs. Despite his best efforts to hold them back, tears began streaming down Soryn's cheeks. Unable to keep staring into the hellish landscape, Soryn walked further into the woods before he stumbled into a creek and passed out.

Laying in a catatonic state, some Capitol soldiers came across the creek, sweeping the area for any rebels that may have escaped. One of them stumbled upon to Soryn's prone form and stooped down to check his vitals.

"We have a casualty here." the soldier called over the radio, then he turned to one his squadmates "Mytcell, get over here."

"Hey, Stavan, is he still breathing?" Mytcell asked, looking over Soryn's prone form. Soryn choked up a coughed and shifted his weight off of his injuries. Mytcell cursed with surprise "He's still alive!?"

Stavan called over the radio again "Scratch the last transmission. We're going to need a medic over here."

/-\\\

Waking up, Soryn felt disoriented, his vision was blurred, and unfamiliar voices surrounded him. From what he could hear, he was in an infirmary. Suddenly, Soryn felt a prick on his skin, his sight came back, and there were Capitol soldiers and doctors standing over him.

He let out a doublet of punches at the nearest person, a peacekeeper, causing him to reel back.

"The little guy packs a punch." said the soldier, grasping his nose.

The doctor who had given Soryn the shot moved out of the way. Another doctor went to check on the soldier Soryn had punched, while the others restrained their patient.

The doctor plugged the device into a computer and Soryn's file came up, along with pictures of his Mom and Dad, whose pictures had the letters KIA over them. The doctor yelled at one of the soldiers and tapped on the screen, causing the images to disappear and were replaced by Soryn's medical data.

Soryn had once asked Uncle Marty what the acronym meant, and his uncle replied as easily as he could. KIA: someone had died fighting. Soryn fought back the tears, trying not to think about how they had met their end.

The doctor removed the bandage covering the burn on Soryn's back. A burning sensation as the bandage was removed came to his conscious mind, causing Soryn to wince. One of the nurses came up and replaced the bandage, a cool and soothing ointment spread over the afflicted area.

Some of the soldiers stood around chatting amongst each other. Another soldier came in, and by looking at him, it was raining outside. His compatriots seemed eager to hear what he had to say.

"Is there anything new?" one soldier asked, eagerly waiting for the response.

The messenger seemed annoyed at being effectively ambushed, but continued anyways "Most of the districts have been brought to heel, all we are dealing with now are minor holdouts. We also received word that District Two finally caved."

"Took long enough." another soldier said, with contempt in his voice.

"I'm surprised it came so easy." the soldier Soryn had punched said "They were putting up so much of a fight, I was expecting more to go down fighting"

"With District Thirteen a smoldering crater, we knew it was only a matter of time before the others fell back into line." the messenger said.

The other soldiers seemed to nod their heads in agreement.

"So how long will it be until the Peacekeepers are back on duty?"

"It is my understanding that they will be back in full force by the end of the week"

Soryn tuned out the rest of their conversation, nearly choking on the breath that was passing through his lungs.

After their defiant act against the Capitol, striking off the head and shaking free of the shackles they had placed, all the other districts had rallied behind Thirteen, and for most of the war, it seemed untouchable. Invincible.

The way the soldiers talked about it made it sound as if it was no more difficult than swatting an annoying fly, and as a result, the rest of the rebellion lost its drive and fell apart. And now all that the rebels had fought so hard to accomplish over the course of months was being undone in a matter of days.

As the doctor continued to look over him, Soryn glanced at the screen again. According to the data that was display, Soryn had two cracked ribs, second and third degree burns along his back, and cuts, scrapes, bruises, and other minor burns all over his body, along with bits of shrapnel from the safe house being destroyed in front of him.

The doctor was rambling about Soryn to the soldier he had punched. "Anyone else would have collapsed after enduring that much physical punishment and we have no idea as to what extent the emotional trauma goes."

One of the soldiers looked at the screen and then over the doctor's shoulder. "He's only eight years old?"

"He's a survivor." The doctor said as he stared into the screen.

A survivor. The very nature of District Twelve was survival. Twelve was not the strongest, most productive, or most populous district, but they were the hardened; tough as nails. The citizens of District Twelve lived the school of hard knocks every day. Death, pain, and suffering were commonplace, and only the toughest survived. But none of that would bring his parents back. Tears began to well up in Soryn's eyes as he silently wept.

The doctor prepared a syringe and injected it into Soryn's arm. He instinctively recoiled, not because he was afraid of needles, but rather because he did not trust the Capitol doctor.

"This is a sedative." The doctor placed a hand on Soryn's head as he drifted off into a deep sleep "You have quite a day ahead of you tomorrow."

Soryn tried to force himself to stay awake, but the sedative worked its way into his system and the voices fell silent and the world slowly blurred and faded into blackness.

/-\\\

Soryn was running through a burning forest, dodging fireballs as he avoided tripping in the many holes that dotted the terrain. As he continued running, he noticed people, or ghostly apparitions; figures standing silent, some with their faces obscured by a fog. One was a tall boy, or maybe even a young man, tall and proud regardless. Another one of the figures was a young woman, maybe a teenager. The other notable figure was a young girl, probably only slightly older than him.

While Soryn could not guess who many of the phantoms were, he recognized some of the others: his mother and father, his uncle Marty, some of his neighbors, people who the fire that destroyed their homes around them, even while they were inside. Friends and family. All of them, gone.

Soryn finally made it to a clearing, and it began to rain. Stopping to look around, he saw all of the apparitions gathered. Some of them with anger in their eyes, while others had a look of sadness, but some of them had a different look on their face, one of anticipation.

"What were they expecting?" Soryn thought to himself. Why did it seem that they were looking to him? An older figure seemed to step forward. He seemed…familiar, but Soryn had never seen him before in his life. The figure gestured, as if telling him to wait.

The world seemed to shift, and the apparitions blew away with a gust of wind, and the ground cracked open beneath his feet, plunging him into the raging fires in the depths of the earth.

/-\\\

Soryn woke up from his drug-induced nightmare to the sound of a nurse opening the blinds over the window. On a table to his right, there was a tray with what Soryn guessed was breakfast. The room Soryn was in seemed familiar, but he could not quite place it. The pain in the area he was burned had disappeared almost entirely.

The nurse turned back to Soryn and noticed he was awake.

"Good morning." the nurse said with a typical Capitol accent. "I hope you got plenty of rest, because you have a big day tomorrow." the nurse said as she moved the breakfast tray in front of Soryn

"I will let the doctor know you are awake, but in the meantime you can eat breakfast."

The nurse spun around towards the door and walked out with a spring in her step. Soryn inspected what was placed in front of him: scrambled eggs, bacon, a piece of toast, and a glass of orange juice. Soryn quickly attacked the bacon before moving on to the toast.

The doctor came in while he was sipping the orange juice.

"You have been recovering well." the doctor said cheerfully. "Since we were unable to find any other next of kin to take you in, we have arranged to have you placed in a community home."

He barely blinked his eyes in reaction to the news. The doctor did not seem to notice and continued.

"The head of the community home will be by tomorrow to pick you up. We will get you some clothes so you will be presentable when they come."

Soryn had seen the effects of community homes. Some of his friends had been sent to community homes and the results that soon followed were something Soryn did not want that to happen to himself.

As the day slowly passed, the frequency of the guards and doctors checking on him began to spread out. When the lights went out for the night, they had stopped checking almost entirely. He waited patiently until he was sure no one would catch him.

Once satisfied, Soryn eased himself out of the bed. Sneaking up to the window, Soryn checked for anything that would trigger an alarm when he opened it. Nothing. Compared to what his uncle would do to make sure he would stay in his room, they might as well have left the door open.

A gentle, cool night breeze came in as the window opened as he poked his head outside and noticed he was on the second floor. It would not be his most difficult climb, but since he was still recovering, he would have to take it easier than normal. Easing his way down, he dropped next to the brush that ran alongside the building, hidden by the foliage.

To get his bearing, Soryn crept through the brush until he came to a clearing. Floodlights bathed the open fields that he instantly recognized. The Capitol had used his school as a temporary hospital to process the wounded. Capitol soldiers patrolled the grounds, waiting for a reason to shoot.

The alarm sounded, sending the guards scurrying as they looked for Soryn. With his absence noted, Soryn stealthily vacated the premises before they brought out dogs.

While Soryn had a head start and knew the area better than his pursuers, with his injuries, that lead would disappear when they caught his trail. In the distance, Soryn could hear dogs barking, but the school was far behind.

As he continued onward, he came across a road. Noticing a convoy of vehicles coming, he immediately dropped to the ground, wincing as his ribs graced the ground. Looking as the cars passed, it was not hard to tell what they were carrying. Prisoners of war.

The men had defeated looks on their faces and by looking at them, they had obviously had been holding up for several days, before they were either captured or had surrendered. Just looking at them gave Soryn the feeling of rocks hitting the bottom of his stomach. The last of the rebels who had tried to keep fighting and failed, now being rounded up and carted off to the stocks, or worse, the Platform.

The last truck carried Peacekeepers guarding two female captives, one older, possibly in her forties, the other was likely still in her teens. Soryn briefly thought he recognized the younger captive, but the truck moved from view before he could discern her identity.

He stayed hidden in the grass until the last of the trucks had passed, and then he sprinted across the roadway.

Sneaking through the fields, Soryn traced his way back to the Widow's Peak, taking care to avoid alerting the Capitol soldiers of his presence. It was not long before the ground turned black from the flames. Smoke and ashes continued to rise, mixing with the growing rainclouds as they gathered overhead.

Dodging soldiers, Soryn maneuvered his way through the ashes of what had been his neighbors' homes. Even though the neighborhood was utterly unrecognizable, it was his turf, and he knew it well. After dodging guards along the way, Soryn came up to the ruins of his home, staring at the blackened structure. His entire childhood, now just a distant memory despite being a few feet in front of him.

Thunder snapped him back to his present situation. Soryn began poking around, looking for anything of value in his current situation. He made his way to where the master bedroom had been. He kicked at the various piles of ash, but not finding anything worthwhile. As he was about to leave, his foot caught something. Kneeling down, he examined the object.

It was a small, locked box that had endured the flames. Soryn pulled at the lid, which opened with little effort, as the lock had been destroyed in the fire. The contents, however, remained unharmed. There was a small photo album, with pictures of his family over the years. Another item was a locket that belonged to his mother. It was a gift from his father when they were married. The only times she would ever take it off was when she was working, and had most likely left it home so she would not lose it.

Soryn handled the locket gingerly as if it would shatter if he applied too much force. He opened it, revealing a picture of Soryn and his parents. Once more, tears streamed from Soryn's face.

The Capitol had destroyed his home, his family, and had tried their best to destroy him. The rebellion may have been defeated, but Soryn, and many other rebels still remained; defeated, but alive nonetheless. Their survival was an act of defiance.

Standing to his feet, he began looking for a weak point in the floor. The fires had erased all of the normal markers, but it was not long before Soryn found what he was looking for.

As Soryn pressed at specific points on what had once been tile, part of the floor gave way, dropping him into his father's storeroom, landing on an old mattress. Soryn grabbed a backpack and satchel and began loading them with various items that he would need for the foreseeable future: sock, gloves, a sleeping bag, water bottles and a water purifier to go with it. While he could not bring everything with him, Soryn picked the essentials and whatever else he could carry and hoisted himself out of the basement.

The scent of the air had changed, and the storm clouds loomed, accompanied by lightning and thunder. Soryn crept through the rubble, avoiding the Capitol troops. As he neared the edge of the neighborhood, two capitol hovercrafts arrived and began off-loading troops. Soryn tucked himself in a ditch at the edge of a foundation, looking for a way around this new obstacle.

As he was trying to work out a plan, rain began to fall. With no other choice, Soryn backtracked into the neighborhood and found a place to hide from the elements and the soldiers as the storm clouds released their contents upon the Earth.

From the shelter, there was a good view on the landscape. While some of the soldiers had gone to find shelter, most of them were still out on patrol, waiting for potential prey to reveal themselves.

With no end to the rain in sight, Soryn settled down for the night and went to sleep.

/-\\\

Soryn woke with a start to the sounds of gunfire being exchanged. A pale light crept through the holes in the wall, and sound of rainfall hitting the roof, providing an eerie sense of tranquility in spite of the raging battle outside. He looked out to where the Capitol soldiers had landed during the night.

The soldiers had fallen back to take cover behind what remained of some houses. The rebels were firing from the cover of the trees, and judging by the shouting, the firefight was not going anywhere very fast.

Soryn gathered his things and sprinted from cover to cover. It was still raining lightly, and mud, ash, and water splashed with each footstep. A hovercraft came over head, only to be intercepted by a doublet of rocket-propelled grenades.

The hovercraft lost altitude, recovering before it hit the ground. Two more rockets flew towards the hovercraft, with one missing its mark entirely. The other hit the tail, sending the hovercraft spinning.

The hovercraft skidded across the field, gouging the Earth, taking out several trees in the process. Soryn used the moment of distraction to escape the warzone, running as fast as he could while the soldiers were occupied with the rebels. As the distance between Soryn and the firefight grew, the more the sound of bullets whizzing past his head diminished.

When Soryn had reached the safety of the treeline, he looked back towards the firefight. The Capitol soldiers were falling back while the rebels continued to hold the high ground. As the Capitol soldiers disappeared from view, Soryn heard the familiar sound of hover engines filled the air.

Two more hovercrafts came into view, strafing the rebels with firebombs, silencing their gunfire. Soryn continued running without another glance, hoping that the soldiers did not see him.

As Soryn hiked through the woods, he began thinking what to do in order to survive. The first thing to come to mind was shelter. Having the proper equipment and skills would mean nothing if there was not a warm, dry place to come back to every night. He could likely find places either within, or not very far from the main settlement of District Twelve, which would put him in close proximity with basic conveniences.

The next issue was food. There was not much in the way of edible plant-life within the district itself, and hunting had been illegal for as long as he could remember. Stealing was an option, but it would not take long for the Peacekeepers to crack down and punish him before taking him to a community home.

There were places to hide within the district, but there would be plenty of others who would utilize this option. After pondering all of his options, Soryn decided to head back to the district and hoped that the Peacekeepers had more important things to worry about than a lone child wandering around without supervision.

Trudging across the rain-soaked terrain, the rainclouds thinned out a little, allowing air to warm up. Wanting to avoid any confrontation with the Peacekeepers, Soryn snuck into the city through one of the passages he had discovered.

Most of the city was quieter than usual, but there were still civilians wandering around, probably helping to locate corpses and generally clean up the mess that the Capitol had made. Soryn walked out into the open, acting as inconspicuous as possible as he looked for a place to stay for the night.

Other kids looked at him from their windows before nervous mothers pulled them away and closed the curtains, but apart from some brief glances from some workers, no one paid Soryn any attention. After wandering for a few hours, Soryn finally found an acceptable place to bed down for the night where he would not likely be disturbed.

/-\\\

Sitting in his hideout, Soryn stared into the night sky, looking out on the war-torn cityscape. Everyone else had gone to bed, and Peacekeepers patrolled the streets. The glow from still-burning-fires gave the sky an eerie glow, obscuring some of the stars that were so easy to see before.

Finally, Soryn could no longer keep his eyes open and drifted off into a fitful sleep, plagued by nightmares, watching loved ones and strangers alike perish in flames. 

Before the break of dawn, Soryn was awoken to the sound of light footfalls. Someone else was sneaking around the back alleys of District Twelve. Gathering his things, he readied for a quick departure. Shadows crept along the wall, voices whispered amongst each other, some with fear. Soryn hid himself from view as the voice drew closer.

"How long until the Peacekeepers find us?" one voice asked.

"Too soon." another replied

"We saw the little kid run in here. He can't stay hidden for long." a third one said, most likely referring to Soryn.

"He can't have much." the second one said, obviously not interested in his group's endeavor.

"Quiet!" hissed a fourth voice, this one belonging to a female.

The figures crept into view. Fierce looking teenagers looking for prey in effort to survive. The first one was a muscular, dark-haired individual who looked like he had spent time in both the stocks, as well as the coal mines and looked like he was the leader, carried a cruel looking blade.

The second was a scrawny boy with glasses and light brown hair. The third looked like an adult, but did not carry himself like the ones who had participated in the fighting, and so was likely under sixteen. His black hair and olive skin marked him as someone from the Seam.

The three fanned out, looking for prey to pounce upon. Once certain that the area was clear, the leader beckoned whoever was behind him to come forward. Two more people brought up the rear, a teenage girl with disheveled brown hair and a red headed boy who looked like he was not much older than Soryn. The group gathered back together underneath Soryn's hiding place.

"He's not here." the one with glasses said.

"Not on ground level." the third clarified "but there looks to be some good places to hide up there." he finished, pointing in the general direction of Soryn's hideout.

"Scamp!" the leader quietly called out "could you go up and check?"

The boy with red hair nodded in acknowledgement and immediately went to climbing the wall as Soryn had done the night before. He reached Soryn's hideout, only to find it empty and swept clean. The boy leaned back "He was here recently." he called down below to his companions.

Soryn observed the scene from an adjacent rooftop. The boy scrambled onto the ledge, looking for clues as to where Soryn had gone. As he watched the boy clamber down, Soryn presumed that they had seen him with his pack and guessed he had food. He would have to be more cautious in the future.

All that had to be done in the meantime was wait until they left, but these would not be the only ones out looking for means to survive, and there would likely be more encounters in the future.

As the group left the alley, Soryn quietly scrambled down and ran in the opposite direction.


	2. Chapter 2

"_In response to the continued insurrectionist activity following the signing of the Treaty of Treason , we have deployed strike teams to neutralize their remaining holdouts in the areas outside of the twelve districts."  
_  
\- Report from Parliament Member Draco Armstrong to the Office of the President of Panem.

The wind gently blew against Soryn's back as he walked along the fence that circled District Twelve. Under more ideal circumstances, he would not be considering going outside of the district, but as of late, food began to run short.

For the last several weeks, Soryn was able to ration what he had retrieved from his father's cache and supplement it with wild berries he found within the district that were safe to eat and rummaging through garbage cans, but even then, the food was about running low. He had seen people leave the district to hunt before the war, and even after, but many of their passageways had been closed off by Peacekeepers.

Apart from the buzzing from the electric current running along the fence and a few birds singing, it was very quiet. Soryn's hope was that someone, most likely a hunter, would reveal a passageway for him to access. In the past five days Soryn had been walking up and down the fence or hiding amongst the foliage, he had seen no one else but Peacekeepers.

As Soryn was about to finish his walk, he spotted five Peacekeepers running up the path. With this development, Soryn slinked off into the underbrush. While it would not have been hard to find where Soryn had disappeared, they were preoccupied with other matters and bypassed Soryn's trail entirely.

Peeking out of the brush he was hiding under, he began stalking the Peacekeepers, taking care to stay out of sight. After trailing his quarry for several minutes, the Peacekeepers came to a sudden stop and began looking at the ground, kicking periodically. After a little while, some more Peacekeepers came and joined their colleagues, but whatever they were looking for eluded them and some of them fanned out and moved on.

Looking on with rapt interest, he nibbled on the last of the jerky he had recovered from his father's stash, but otherwise unmoving. After dark fell, the Peacekeepers grew frustrated and left the area with a marker. Curious, Soryn continued to watch.

Hours passed on before finally someone showed up. A certain patch of earth shifted to make room for someone as he hoisted himself onto the surface. The person looked around, scanning the area for Peacekeepers waiting to ambush him. Once he seemed satisfied, he lifted a small bag and swung it over his shoulder and closed the hidden door behind, leaving nothing for the Peacekeepers to find. Soryn immediately knew what was in the bag.

The man was a hunter, or as the Capitol called him, a poacher; getting food for his family so they would not starve. No sooner was the man out of sight when a truck full of Peacekeepers pulled up. They dismounted and re-searched the area. One of them found the freshly made trail and beckoned his comrades to follow.

While Soryn hoped the man would get away, he would have to sidestep and evade any Peacekeepers that were called in to intercept him on his way back. He moved to head back to town. Whatever the Peacekeepers had set up the night before alerted them when the hunter came out through his tunnel. Soryn had made this trip several times before and could have ran back blindfolded if he had to and still would have made it back before the Peacekeepers. Thankfully, the Peacekeepers were looking for a full grown man, instead of a small, eight-year-old boy. By the time night had fallen, the Peacekeepers had obviously not caught anyone.

The next day, he waited at the edge of the district to see if anyone else came out to hunt, and if so, the method and manner in which they got past the fence. Shortly after dawn, a young woman gracefully walked out of the district, carrying nothing on her person. While it did not seem that she was doing anything in particular, Soryn sensed the urge to follow her.

As the woman walked through the meadow, Soryn crept along behind her. When they came to an enclosing of trees near the fence, the woman walked up to a little grassy knoll and kicked at it twice. She then stooped down and pulled on a rope, revealing a tunnel similar to the one that Soryn had seen the other day.

After the woman had disappeared from view and had closed the hatch behind her, Soryn waited a minute and then followed. After briefly inspecting the entrance, Soryn mimicked the woman's actions, locating the door, and shortly after, the rope. Giving the rope a steady tug, the hatch opened, revealing a dark, narrow tunnel. There was some light that indicated the end of the tunnel, making it less unnerving.

The other end opened to a densely wooded area, green, lush, and relatively undisturbed. Soryn walked through forest, taking care to note the landmarks and picking berries to eat while he explored the area. After wandering around for an hour, he heard something in the distance, something thrashing against some leaves. Soryn climbed a nearby tree and approached the noise through the tree branches.

When he came to a clearing, he found the source of the noise. A rabbit been caught in a snare that had left behind by one of the hunters. After the rabbit had stopped moving, Soryn eased himself down the tree and moved for a closer look at the rope work that had caught the now-dead rabbit.

Taking note of each turn of the rope which formed the snare, Soryn committed the knot to memory and scrambled back into the tree to see who would retrieve it. Soryn munched on the berries, watching the snare like a hawk. After the sun began its decent to the western horizon, the woman that Soryn had followed came into view to inspect her catch.

The woman looked like she was hardly out of her teens. Her face was steeled and determined, her dark hair tied up in a ponytail except for two strands which drifted over her pale eyes. On her back, she had a bow and quiver, and a sack to carry her game. She released the dangling rabbit and placed it in her bag, before disappearing into the woods again, leaving nothing but the snare to await its next victim.

Having seen what he wanted to see, Soryn began to make his way back to tunnel, stopping by a spring to get a drink along the way. When the tunnel came into view, Soryn felt the urge to stop. After a minute or two, the woman walked out into view, no longer carrying her bow and quiver, staring straight at him.

"It isn't very polite to stalk people like that, you know." the woman said with smile.

Knowing he had been effectively "caught", he clambered down the tree to meet the woman. When he got closer, he noticed she had the Seam look about her; pretty, but toughened out by the trials that regularly plagued that part of the district. The girl was not extraordinarily tall, but still stood more than a foot taller than Soryn.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked.

Soryn did not respond, but the woman seemed to know already.

"Checking out how things are done out here, are you?"

Soryn nodded in reply.

The girl chuckled. "You have to have your wits about you in order to stay alive out here, so the fact that you're not horribly lost or mauled by a bear right now is a good sign.

Soryn still did not say a word. He did not even change his expression. The woman continued to talk.

"You know, normally people introduce themselves to people they don't know." She stooped down and offered her hand as Soryn had often seen his mother and father do. "My name is Camille Merrick."

Soryn shook her hand. "Soryn Lockwood." he quietly replied

"So, what brings a kid like you out here?" she asked.

"Food." Soryn quietly replied.

Camille chuckled again "Well there is plenty of that out here. You just have to know where to look."

Soryn just stared at her.

"If you're up to it, the next time I come out here, you can tag along. I can show you some good spots that I frequently visit."

While Soryn could not see his own face, something must have shown his increased interest.

"So I'll see you next week then." And with that, she spun around crawled through the tunnel. With some hesitation, Soryn followed. The two walked towards district together.

"Maybe you could come by my house sometime, meet my family"

"Do you have any siblings?"

"One; a sister who's about your age."

"What is it like in the Seam?" Soryn asked.

Camille shot him a look, obviously aware that she had not divulged where she was from to him.

"Your appearance gives you away"

"Oh."

An awkward pause settled before the conversation continued. "We're still recovering from the last attack, but my family is pretty well off compared to most."

Now it was Camille's turn to ask an awkward question. "Do you have any family?"

Images passed through Soryn's mind: his parents' files labeled KIA, his uncle's mangled body, Widow's Peak burning in the night sky. Tears tried to form on Soryn's eyes, but he willed them away and banished the images from his mind. Camille still noticed his reaction.

"I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to be rude."

"It is all right, I've been managing." Soryn replied with a slight quiver in his voice.

"Most kids I know, myself included, wouldn't be able to handle that much emotional strain. I wouldn't know what to do without my family. If you need a place to stay, we could stand to have another man of the house. Ever since the war, it's just been me, my mother, and my sister."

"Don't worry, I have something worked out."

"Well, if you need anything, I will help any way I can."

Soryn had gone so long without really talking to anyone, much less, anyone who was this pleasant. It was nice to have someone who could be a friend. All of his other friends had died in the fires at the end of the war. Even though he had just met her, something told him that he could trust her.

The two continued to walk together for a little while until Camille had to split off to go back to the Seam. Soryn found another place to sleep, and as he settled down for the night, his thought wander to Camille and the next weekend when they would go out hunting.

/-\\\

Soryn awoke to the sounds of birds singing. After all the time he had spent living on the streets, it had become much easier to find places to sleep and he had mapped most of the alleys and shortcuts.

Gathering his things, Soryn swept his campsite of nearly all traces of his presence. Breakfast consisted largely of items he had fished from a couple of garbage cans. Even though he a steady supply of food now, Soryn still raided garbage cans on a semi-regular basis, only now he could afford to be picky.

Some burnt pastries from the bakery topped off the meal and Soryn began his Saturday morning routine. Weaving through the streets and alleyways, Soryn began walking towards the meadow. Once he was satisfied he was not being followed, he began hiking towards the fence. Apart from some rabbits, there was no one there to see Soryn.

The weather was pleasant as Soryn walked towards the edge of District Twelve. It had been eight weeks since he had met Camille in the woods. They had seen each other while each was going about their daily business, and several times they had met at her house where she passed on some of the skills her father had taught her before he died in the war.

While Camille generally handled the hunting, Soryn's familiarity with the numerous plants that were in District Twelve and the surrounding area proved to be an invaluable asset during their ventures. On some occasions, they had encountered other hunters and bartered with them. While Camille was more than capable in handling herself, having an extra set of eyes made things a little easier for her.

Soryn had been absorbing everything Camille taught him so fast, she had moved up to teaching him how to use a knife within a week, not only in cleaning the kills, but hunting with them as well. In return, Soryn taught her what he knew about plants.

As usual, Soryn kicked at the knoll, locating the door and pulling it open, then crawling through the tunnel. He went to the hollowed out tree that he and Camille stashed their tools and weapons, pulling out his knife and bag and went to their designated meeting spot. When he got to the encirclement of trees, he whistled an eight-note melody. After a few seconds, another eight-note melody replied. Camille slipped out from underneath pile of leaves and dusted herself off.

The two nodded to each other, checking their equipment and gear before hiking towards their designated hunting grounds for the day.

By midday they had caught several rabbits and squirrels through either the snares or Camille's shooting. They took a break for lunch, and bartered with an older hunter who gave them some sweet rolls in exchange with a rabbit and three squirrels. It was not long before they were on the trail of a deer. Camille kept her bow at the ready with an arrow neatly notched.

As they trailed after their quarry, the air seemed to still around them. The birds stopped singing and the bugs stopped buzzing. Even the wind seemed to suddenly stop. Suddenly, the hairs on their arms and backs seemed to rise. Instinct took over and both of them ran to a small cave.

No sooner were they out of sight when a hovercraft slowly passed overhead, searching for prey of its own. The hunters had now become the hunted in the presence of the flying metal beast of prey. The danger soon passed, and the birds resumed their songs. The pair eased themselves out of the cave, making sure it was safe before venturing away from the cave again.

"I wonder what they're looking for." Soryn pondered aloud.

"Their search pattern doesn't seem like they're looking for anything in particular" Camille quietly replied "Let's just keep an ear out and hope we don't run into them again"

Soryn nodded his head in agreement and the two of them moved on.

The next two and a half hours were largely uneventful. They finally closed in on the deer. Camille readied her bow once more and let loose an arrow. The beast fell to the ground with a shaft protruding from its side. The two quickly set about cutting up what they needed and could carry and left the rest in a collection of bushes out of sight.

As the shadows began to lengthen, Camille and Soryn made their way back to the tunnel, eating berries they picked along the way. They stowed their gear away in the hollowed out tree and went back to the tunnel.

At the entrance, two fierce looking men stood in the way. Judging from the smell they had not showered for a long time, and their beards were dirty and bedraggled.

"You better give us your haul there, missy." the one to their left said with a sickening smile that revealed crooked, yellow teeth.

"I'm sure you two can make do with a tenth of it." Camille said with a calm, polite voice, trying to defuse the situation before it got out of hand.

"Well, there's a problem with that, missy; there's a bit more than two of us."

As if on cue, twelve more people crept out from behind trees, or from their disguised pits. Soryn sized up the situation. Even with their weapons, there was no guarantee that they would be able to take out half of them.

"I'm sorry, but we can't part with more than a quarter. Our families-"

"-Can wait a little while longer." The leader said, cutting her off as he directed two of his men to relieve them of their hard earned haul. "You see, we've been starving out here ever since the end of the war. This is a…donation to the soldier who're continuing the fight."

Camille did her best to conceal her anger as the two men got closer. As they reached for the bag, the air stopped again. Camille noticed the same thing and tensed up, gripping the strap tighter as the bandit tried to pull it away. The man lost his temper and backhanded her across the face.

"Still trying to keep it for yourself, are ya?" he said with a sinister chuckle.

A loud crunching sound cut him off mid laugh. The bandit looked down to his chest, which now had a metal harpoon protruding from it. The man flew into the air to the hovercraft looming above, trying to scream, but only mouthing silence. The other bandits began to run. Two were promptly gunned down by a sniper, each felled by a single bullet to the head.

Suddenly, ropes dropped from the hovercraft and a squad of men wearing black coats slid to the ground below, cutting down more of the bandits as more, similarly garbed individuals appeared from behind trees and rocks.

Soryn and Camille scrambled to the entrance of the tunnel, dodging bullets as they cut through the air around them. Camille relieved one bandit of his knife as his lifeless body fell in front of them. One of the black-coated men jumped own from a tree overhead, blocking their path.

Without missing a beat, Camille tackled the man to the ground. The man transferred her momentum, throwing her over himself as he rolled back onto his feet. Pulling a knife from his sleeve, the man came down on top of Camille. Intercepting her opponent's blow, she tried to stab him with her own knife, locking their arms against each other.

"Go!" shouted Camille, before kicking the man and knocking him backwards.

Shaking off the shock, Soryn complied, continuing towards the concealed tunnel. In a few moments, he had pulled the entrance's cover to the side and clambered in. Camille used the opening to get to her feet and slashed at the man, who dodged every attack until she accidently overextended herself. With a swift kick, he had broken Camille's stance and threw her to the ground.

Soryn whipped around to see if his companion was following him just in time to see the blade drive into her chest.

With everyone else dead or captured, it would not be long before they started looking for him. Soryn moved as quickly as he could through the tunnel. As he got to the other end he could hear the soldiers at the other end, telling the hovercraft to reposition itself on the other end. Soryn ran as fast as his legs could carry him. The hovercraft settled over the entrance to the tunnel. Soryn would not leave the district through this route again.

As Soryn continued to run, he periodically glanced over his shoulder. The hovercraft either had not spotted him or disregarded him because of his size. Soryn easily made into the main part of the district without any trouble, but an uneasy feeling came over him as he crossed a street.

The hovercraft had not returned. Soryn began to panic. Where had they taken all of those people? Unless Camille had somehow survived, she would soon wish she had not, if the stories his uncle told him were true.

Living or dead, her family would undoubtedly be concerned and probably come looking for her. He had to tell them, but how? How would he go up to Camille's family and tell them that she had been killed by the Capitol?

Soryn slumped down the side of a building, sitting on the dirt, his head in his hands, trying to make since of it all. Why had those men attacked them, even though it had only been a matter of weeks since the rebellion had defeated. He had heard of people making rash decisions out of desperation, but to see it firsthand was horrifying. Then there were the people who had ambushed them all. They did not wear any distinguishing symbols, but it was obvious that they were from the Capitol. Something about them sent chills up his spine.

The sound of boots impacting the gravel disrupted his train of thought. Two Peacekeepers walked past, barely giving Soryn a scowling glance. When they had moved on Soryn moved down the alley, straight into Scamp.

Both of them were the same height, but the boy had lost weight since he last saw him. It was possible that he would be able to take him, but he knew of instances where the weaker looking opponent had claimed victory.

Soryn turned to run to find the leader of the gang standing in his way. The rest of the gang came behind the other two, the boy with glasses and the girl behind the leader, the boy with brown hair fell in behind Scamp. Soryn was surrounded.

There was no way he would be able to take all of them. Soryn went with his only other option. While these kids were probably fast, they were not as fast as Soryn, and nowhere near as nimble. Soryn leapt onto the side of the building and climbed onto the roof before they could grab his foot. Scamp and the leader were quick to follow him to the rooftops while the others followed them from below.

The Peacekeepers soon took notice and joined the chase. The three trailing below quickly broke off their pursuit. The Peacekeepers continued trailing Soryn and the two from the gang. The Leader stumbled and nearly gored himself on the edge of a rooftop.

Not taking the hint, he climbed back onto the roof and promptly fell through into the house, rushing out of the house and in another direction before the Peacekeepers caught him. Scamp continued keep up, but it was apparent he was not used to running like this for this long.

The Peacekeepers had either given up or had decided to chase the gang leader instead. Soryn dropped down to an alley, rolling along the ground to his feet and continued running. Scamp dropped down after him and run in the direction he thought Soryn had run. After Scamp had run off, Soryn slid out from underneath a house he hid under, passing out from exhaustion.

/-\\\

After another night of fitful sleep, Soryn woke up covered in sweat. As he stretched, his legs felt stiff from inactivity, but were still functional.

It had been two nights since Camille had been killed. During that time, Soryn had not been able to muster the will to eat, much less move from his hiding spot. There had been no bulletins or announcements herald Camille or anyone else who had died in the forest.

Her family had to know, or else they might go looking for her, if they had not already done so. Finding a piece of paper, he jotted down a note as neatly as he could, gathered his belongings, and headed towards the Seam.

The walk was oddly quiet considering the number of people heading off to work. He had only been to her house a handful of instances, and had only interacted with the rest of the family once, but he still remembered how to get there.

In front of the house, Soryn. It felt wrong being there without her. A guest that was no longer welcome. He quietly snuck up to their doorstep, leaving the note behind underneath their door. A noise from inside the house sent him scurrying into the streets, taking one last look at the house before disappearing into the crowd.

As the rest of the day wore on, Soryn wandered into the meadow, stooping next to a pool of water. It had only been nine weeks since his home had been wiped from existence, but he could hardly recognize the person that looked back at him. His hair was greasy and unkempt, and scars from where shrapnel had torn into his skin dotted his face. Running his hand through his hair, he stared at his reflection.

While walking back to the main part of District Twelve, clouds moved in, promising rain. Suddenly, the PA system activated.

"ALL CITIZENS: RETURN TO YOUR HOMES AND TURN ON YOUR TELEVISION SETS FOR A SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT FROM THE PRESIDENT OF PANEM."

It would not be long until the Peacekeepers would be patrolling the streets to make sure everyone was adhering to the impromptu curfew. Soryn snuck alongside some of the houses, peeking through the windows to see the announcement from the Capitol. After searching several houses, he found a window that offered a good view of a television set, as well as some foliage to provide concealment.

The family gathered on the couch that sat in the center of the living room, staring at the screen as it buzzed with static. Eventually, the Capitol seal popped onto the screen with a voice heralding the President's presentation, which was echoed through loudspeakers in the district. The view on screen shifted to the President himself.

"Two and a half months ago…" he began with a deep, gravelly voice. "…we saw the end of a brutal conflict; one which was putting us on the path of extinction. Since then, we have been rebuilding the districts; restoring them to operational capacity. We, of the Capitol are generous and merciful, and have spared your cities from utter annihilation when you surrendered your arms and returned to the fold. However, we have not forgotten your betrayal. We, who fed, guided you, and gave you protection during the many trials that attempted to wipe you from existence, and still you betrayed our trust in our brief moment of weakness, and rebelled. The homes that lie in shambles, the lives broken and lost hang around your neck. To ensure that these events are never repeated, those who led you during the rebellion traveled to the Capitol and signed the Treaty of Treason; a promise that you will never again rise up against your faithful guardians. On this day, we have sent out representatives to each of the twelve districts to select two young individuals, one boy and one girl, from the ages of twelve to eighteen. These young people will be your champions in what will be henceforth known as the Hunger Games: an ultimate battle of survival, a fight to the death in an arranged arena where only one shall remain standing."

The President paused, as if letting the families watching clutch their children in horror of the announcement before continuing.

"But we, being generous, will not simply cast your young people into the wilderness without preparation. They will be given time to train, ready themselves for the harrowing trials that lay ahead of them. During the entirety of the Games, the entire nation will be required to watch, endure the fruits of their betrayal of our trust. And once the dust is settled, and a victor has emerged, they will not only have earned honor for themselves, but will have earned honor for their district, which will be granted extra supplies throughout the year until the next Hunger Games. Every year, from today until the end of time itself, this will be the law which we, as a nation, will abide by as a reminder of the atrocities that you brought upon yourself and the power that we possess. We look forward to the coming months. Your representatives shall be arriving shortly. Thank you and goodnight." And with that the transmission ended.

After several hours, several hovercrafts flew into view, one of which landed in the town square. Soryn had snuck up on top of a nearby building that overlooked the square as workers unloaded materials and began setting up a stage and stands for the selection ceremony for the Hunger Games.

Off to the side, standing at the door of the Justice Building, a woman in brightly colored clothing oversaw the project, wandering along the outside of the Justice Building. The construction continued throughout the night and well through the morning. By then, a stage stood in front of the Justice building, with stands large enough to hold much the District's population and two large screens on either side.

The next day, everyone was instructed to gather at the town square. The people were being split up. Young people from the ages of twelve to eighteen went through a checkpoint where they were processed by Capitol personnel and further divided by age and gender before finally being placed in front of the stage in neat columns. Everyone else moved to the stands to observe the proceedings with the best view possible.

After everyone had settled in, Mayor Silverstone, his wife, and the lady in the bright clothes were escorted onto the stage. The Mayor was normally a large, boisterous man, now his normally smiling face was dominated by a frown, and his clothes began to look too big for him, possibly malnourished from while the Capitol coerced him surrender. A tired and weary look had also settled in his eyes. His wife looked to be in better health, but just as sorrowful.

The lady in bright colors was tall and slender, with dark black hair with red, magenta, purple, and white highlights interspersed throughout, wearing a full length, fur-lined coat to accommodate for the late winter with similarly lined gloves to compliment the coat.

She smiled like she was having the best time of her life, but her eyes rendered the facial expression hollow. Her face exhibited features commonly associated with those from the Far Eastern portion of the Old World, and while it was hard to tell whether it was because of her make up or because her skin was natural that way, he skin was an unnaturally pale, reminding Soryn of the time he had snuck in and took a book from his parents' bookshelf.

The book had been about vampires, and even though he had trouble sleeping the night after reading, his parents never realized he had read it. A smile formed at the pleasant memory, but was soon interrupted by the ceremony.

Mayor Silverstone stood up to the podium and greeted the people of District Twelve in a hollow voice. "Welcome, my brothers and sisters, to the Reaping."

The woman in bright colors shot a disapproving look at him, all while still managing to maintain her enormous smile. The Mayor ignored her and continued with his speech. "In compliance with the Treaty of Treason, we have hosted the Capitol's representative, Mizzie Donnel, to select the two youngsters who she will escort to the Capitol to participate in the first annual Hunger Games. These two young people will be our representatives to the Capitol in a fight to the death. May fortune and favor guide you and your families in the trials ahead."

The next few minutes droned by as the Mayor explained the selection. One boy and one girl would be selected by a lottery, their name printed on a slip of paper which was placed in two glass bowls that were being brought up while the mayor spoke. Everyone who still listed as alive had their names entered according to their age; twelve-year-olds had their names entered once, thirteen-year-olds had their names entered twice, and so on. The oldest members in the crowd all had their names entered six times. Each person had all of their slips entered in the bowl corresponding with their gender.

Once he was finished with the explanation, Mizzie Donnel, District Twelve's "Escort", stepped up to replace Mayor Silverstone as he returned to his seat, just as the stagehands had just finished setting two glass bowls down on either side of the podium.

"Hello, citizens!" She said into the microphone with her high pitch voice, laced with a Capitol accent. "As Mayor Silverstone has already said, I am your Escort. I will help facilitate the necessary preparations that your tributes will undergo to ready themselves for glorious battle."

To Soryn, it sounded as if she hardly believed the words she was saying. "Now, let us begin: ladies first!" Mizzie deftly stuck her hand in the glass bowl, with thousands of slips to choose from. After stirring the slips around, she plucked at one and drew it from the bowl, and with a loud, clear voice, she read the name. "Rose Silverstone."

Rose was nowhere to be seen, but was likely standing with the sixteen-year-old girls. During the war, the Mayor had elected to remain in the Justice Building while his family evacuated to a safe location to having them caught in the crossfire.

The same "safe" location that came under siege until the Capitol had pried a surrender order from the Mayor. Soryn had seen them when he went to the remains of the Widow's Peak while they were being transported in a convoy. Now she was being summoned to enter a fight to the death.

Mrs. Silverstone broke down in tears while Mayor Silverstone tried to keep as straight of a face he could muster, almost as if he had been expecting this possibility.

Slowly, Rose moved forward, step by step until she was intercepted by Peacekeepers and escorted to the stage. While Rose was typically a tomboy in the way she dressed, today she was wearing a pale blue dress that went down to her knees, and her blood red hair was tied up neatly in a bun, with any loose strands going over her shoulder.

After she had settled next to the Podium, Mizzie then asked for volunteers; anyone who would be willing to take her place was allowed to do so. No one spoke up. Rose was obviously trying to deny the Capitol any emotional reaction to her fate, but broke down in short order. "Now, for the boys."

Once again, Donnel spun her hand through a sea of paper before swiftly grabbing a slip that would serve as one boy's death sentence. "Maverick Carrow" Mizzie called.

Maverick was hardly a boy, standing well over six feet tall with closely shaven black hair and fierce, piercing grey eyes, and in contrast with Rose, nearly shoved a Peacekeeper over on his way to the stage. Mizzie smiled and raised Rose's left arm and Maverick's right arm.

"District Twelve, I present to you your champions, Rose Silverstone and Maverick Carrow."

And with that, the two were whisked into the Justice Building where they would be with their families for the last time.


	3. Chapter 3

"_It has been more than four years since the war. I'm still hearing reports of children wandering the streets. The fact that there are plenty of bombed out buildings being used by these urchins is not helping matter. Apparently it is too much to trust the populace to clean up their own homes. We will clean up the districts ourselves."_

\- Report from Parliament Member Amelia Edington to the Office of the President of Panem

/-\\\

Soryn watched, concealed from view, as the Capitol workers moved mounds of dirt with their machines, filling in the openings in the terrain. He had just passed through the same tunnel less than an hour earlier after a fruitless venture into the woods.

The snares had turned up empty even after being left overnight with no sign of ever being disturbed. After Soryn had finished his rounds and began making his way back, a flock of birds dispersed, signaling anyone nearby that a hovercraft was on the way. It had been a long while since he had had to run that fast, and if he had not traveled through the treetops, he would not have made it. When they had finished, he began to make his way back to town.

Trudging through the mud back to District Twelve, Soryn looked at the clouds gathering overhead, heralding a rapidly approaching blizzard: another thing to go wrong this week.

The Capitol had closed two more of his tunnels in the last month, leaving Soryn unable to leave the district to find food until another materialized, which was not happening anytime soon. As of late, the Peacekeepers had begun to crack down on every count, finally deciding to repair the houses, or completely clear away those that were too far gone to be fixed.

It had hardly been a month since the Fourth Victory tour had passed through, bringing the recently crowned victor and her entourage comprised of vividly colored attendants from the Capitol, as well as food and festivities.

While he had watched most of the Games over the shoulders of the adults, it did little to keep his interest, so he typically chose to sit in a corner, away from and out of the walkways, keeping an ear out for anything happening in the arena.

The Victory Tours, on the other hand, gripped his anticipation every year. The feast in District Twelve during the victory tour were a blessing, not only to Soryn, but the rest of the population as well, but with no food and no shelter and a blizzard preparing to blow through the district, the odds of Soryn surviving had nearly dropped to zero.

Desperate, Soryn tried to look for a place to take shelter, hoping someone would be able to take him in until the blizzard had passed. Everyone turned him away, with some thinking he would be spying on them for the Capitol or because they thought it would bring the Peacekeepers to their door, but most were not willing or able to have anyone else in their house. After being turned away more than two dozen times, the blizzard hit, with visibility dropping exponentially. The warmth began to leave Soryn's body while he trudged through the vacant streets with snow blowing into his face.

Had he survived the war just to die like this? Was this the end of his journey, cold, hungry, and alone? He remembered the visions he had experienced back when the rebellion had been crushed. All of those people looking at him to accomplish something. How could anyone have any faith in him to do anything? As the thoughts swirled through his mind like the snow blowing all around him, Soryn tried several doors, screaming for help, only to be ignored at every stop.

Exhausted, Soryn wandered down the street, stumbling as weariness settled in. He slumped down the side of a house, falling into a pile of snow, knocking his head against the door. Tired, hungry, and no relief in sight, Soryn did not resist the darkness that enveloped him soon after.

/-\\\

Natalyne sat next to the fire her grandfather, Lloyd, had set up in the den. Normally she would not be here this time of night, but since the temperature in her room had dropped below freezing, her grandfather had set up some bedding for her to stay there for at least tonight. As she watched the flames dance in front of her eyes while she struggled to keep them open, a noise outside brought her out of her drowsy trance.

The wind was howling outside, so whatever had made the noise was close, maybe even outside the front door. Her grandfather must have heard the noise as well. He came running from the other room, armed with a meat cleaver which he kept out of immediate view in case it was the Peacekeepers.

Lloyd had not participated in the fighting, preferring to look after his granddaughter in the absence of her parents, but after spending decades in the butcher's shop, he was still handy with a knife. Lloyd wrapped the blankets tightly around Natalyne before grabbing his coat as he moved to the door to check outside.

Pulling the door open, wind and snow swept in, blowing the loose fabric on Lloyd's coat as he stepped outside. Satisfied that there were no Peacekeepers, Lloyd readied his blade in case anyone tried to ambush him.

With no one in sight, he turned to go back inside, kicking a stiff lump of snow, which curled up and groaned at the impact. Lloyd stooped down to inspect the person. Judging by the size, Lloyd determined it was a young boy, unconscious and barely breathing. Lloyd tossed the knife back inside and scooped the boy up and carried him back inside, shoving the door closed with his back.

Natalyne was immensely curious at what her grandfather had found as the boy was placed on the couch. Frost covered the boy from head to toe, and portions of his skin were beginning to darken. Lloyd carefully removed the boy's shoes, revealing the white of frostbite on his some of his toes.

After moving the couch closer to the fire, Lloyd examined the boy, who curled into a ball as warmth slowly returned to him. Two of the toes on the left foot were far too gone to recover and would have to be amputated. The boy was malnourished, likely one of the street urchins he had seen running around town.

"Will he be okay, Grandpa?" Natalyne asked innocently.

"He's barely hanging on right now; we will likely know for sure in the morning," Lloyd replied, masking his doubts behind a cold demeanor. Once the boy had been taken care of, he turned to his granddaughter and re-wrapped her in her blankets. "Go to sleep, I'll watch over him".

In a minute, Natalyne had fallen fast asleep. Lloyd further examined the boy's body. Scars from burns and cuts littered his back and arms. He did not exhibit the rough physical traits of someone from the Seam, nor did he possess the fairer characteristics of a merchant, which reduced the number of possibilities to one: Widow's Peak.

Four years did little to ease the memory of the Capitol's annihilation of the most populous portion of District Twelve. What had once been a bustling center of activity had been reduced to a blackened hillside littered with the charred and broken remains of what had been houses in a matter of hours.

Recently, there had been rumors as to whether the Capitol would clear the ruins or not. They had just finally gotten around to properly repairing the district, so they would most likely be waiting for a little while longer before completely erasing Widow's Peak from existence; a testament to the power that Capitol wielded over the districts.

"And how many more are out there like him?" Lloyd thought to himself. There was no one in any of the districts whose lives were left untouched by the Capitol. The Rebellion was the districts' best effort at breaking free from the Capitol's influence, and after it ended in failure, the Capitol only further oppressed the survivors, forcing them to pick up the pieces.

There was no point trying to resist now; not yet anyways. For now they would survive, as they had always done. Lloyd continued to watch over the boy as the night passed on. The boy hardly moved, drifting closer to the edge...

/-\\\

Soryn woke up, struggling to open his eyes. He was lying on a couch in a house next to a fire; obviously not where he was when he lost consciousness. Soryn sat up to get a better account of his surroundings. Everything ached, and his muscles struggled to respond to his commands, so that meant he was not dead. From what he could see outside the window, the sun was shining, with light reflecting off the snow.

"Hey!" A voice called out from across the house "Take it easy."

A man walked into the room, a full head of grey hair, a trait that was not prevalent in District Twelve. He looked strong, but he did not look like he had ever worked in the mines, so that meant he likely was a baker or a butcher, and judging by the smell that drifted through Soryn's nostrils, it was likely the latter.

"You had us worried for some time." said the man in a kind tone.

"How long was I out?" Soryn asked groggily

"Two and a half days. Occasionally you would stir enough so we could get you to drink some water to keep you hydrated. I imagined you would want something to eat as soon as you woke up, so I have breakfast on the stove."

At the mention of breakfast, Soryn suddenly felt very hungry. As the man went to check on the whistling kettle, Soryn noticed a little girl staring at him from the staircase. When Soryn met her gaze, she scrambled downstairs and into the kitchen. She could not be any older than he was.

Shortly after the girl disappeared from view, the man came back out with a small tray filled with food and set it on a table next to the couch. It was not much, but considering how long he had gone without food before the blizzard it was probably for the best.

It took significant effort to chew thoroughly, and his stomach clamored for nourishment. Taking smaller bites, he continued to eat in silence with the man watching him carefully. Once Soryn had halfway finished his breakfast, the kind, old man broke the silence.

"I think we are overdue for introductions." The man said, offering his hand. "My name is Lloyd Rayland, and the girl running around here is my granddaughter, Natalyne."

As if the mention of her name was a cue, Natalyne ran to her grandfather's side. "What's your name?" Natalyne asked, staring at Soryn with immense curiosity.

Soryn initially hesitated. After Camille's death, he tried to avoid personal contact. Most of the people he ran into were either Peacekeepers, people who would turn him over to the Peacekeepers, or competitors in the game of survival.

He knew nothing about these people or which of the latter two categories they would fall under, but they had saved his life, so a deviation from the normal was in order. Soryn accepted Lloyd's handshake, and introduced himself. "Soryn Lockwood." Rembering how the last person he had introduced himself had died protecting him. "How old are you?" Natalyne asked, interrupting the unpleasant memory.

"Twelve." Soryn said flatly.

"I'm ten." Natalyne said cheerily, not paying any mind to Soryn's melancholic response to her previous inquiry.

Soryn redirected his attention to Lloyd "Why did you help me?"

"It's not often that a boy like yourself falls outside my house in the middle of a blizzard like that" Lloyd said with a chuckle. Soryn stared at him blankly. Lloyd suddenly grew solemn. "I did it because I would have expected someone else to do it for Natalyne if she were in the same place." hugging Natalyne closer to himself. "I take it you have nowhere else to go."

Soryn nodded in response.

"You were from Widow's Peak, yes?"

"Yes." Soryn said bitterly.

Lloyd bit his lip. "Pardon my asking, but did your parents fight in the war?"

The memory of seeing his parents' listed as KIA stung. "Yes."

Lloyd nodded respectfully, understanding what Soryn said. "Natalyne's mother died years before the war. Her father was killed while defending District Three during the Rebellion. We're the only family either of us really has left."

Natalyne climbed off of her grandfather's lap and ran upstairs. Lloyd smiled as she left, then turned back to Soryn. "If you need a place to stay, I would be willing to take you in."

The words shocked Soryn. There was no one that he had ever heard of who just allowed someone to live in the home, but of course there had not been a war fought on the scale like the Rebellion in decades. It was apparent that Lloyd was being completely honest, but something like this could not just be accepted. A price had to be paid to balance the equation.

"There has to be a way for me to repay you."

"Nonsense! It was an act of charity."

"I insist. I could work for you, maybe even take up tesserae in Natalyne's place if I must."

Lloyd leaned back in his chair, furrowing his brow in curiosity. "You just had a close brush with death, and yet you are ready to put yourself in harm's way again?"

Soryn sank back into the couch. "My uncle once told me that by being from District Twelve, we were automatically in harm's way. Plus, I am in your debt, and debts are always repaid."

"Fine." said Lloyd putting his hands up, knowing that he would not be able to change Soryn's mind.

The two sat quietly for a moment. "I have to get ready for work, provided anyone is willing to wade through the snow to get here." Lloyd said, rising from his seat. "I'm going to get you something to drink. Natalyne will be here if you need anything else"

After Lloyd had left, Soryn attacked the food again. Four years of living on the streets, enduring the hardships and elements, had finally come to an end.


	4. Chapter 4

"_I get that you're unhappy with being assigned to one of the districts, but that's what happens when you screw up as bad as you did."_

_"So that means no?"_

_"What do you think?"_

_"What if I pulled out a winning candidate?"_

_"From Twelve? Please."_

_"If I could…"_

_"That's a pretty big 'if'. If things go south, guess who winds up on the chopping block."_

_"It won't come to that."_

\- Recorded conversation between District Twelve Head Peacekeeper Nash and Cassius, Head Odds-Maker for the Games

Soryn sat at his desk, bored while waiting for class to end, scribbling his thoughts down in his notebook to make it seem like he was paying attention.

After Lloyd had taken Soryn in, he had Soryn resume his schooling, much to Soryn's chagrin. Most days were boring, with few things ever being considered interesting in Soryn's eyes; a repetitive, mundane routine. During lunch, which he considered the most interesting part of the day, Soryn met up some other children close to his own age.

Maxwell was one of several sons of the baker next door. His shaggy blond hair often drifted in front of his hazel eyes, causing him to regularly brush it out of the way.

Geordie was a scrawny lad, with dark brown hair, pale grey eyes, and was a year younger than Soryn and Maxwell. Despite being younger, Geordie stood a good two inches taller than Maxwell, who was an inch and a half taller than Soryn.

Charna was from the Seam, with jet black hair and olive skin, and her temper sometimes got in the way of her better judgment.

Sitting next to Charna was Ollie, a bookish boy with glasses who chose to hide in Chara's shadow, scarcely talking to anyone.

While Natalyne had an open invitation to sit with them, her lunch schedule was different than Soryn's. The two usually did not see each other until it was time to go home. After lunch, it was a couple more classes and then it was another school day for the books.

Soryn found Natalyne waiting for him out in front of the school. As soon as she spotted him, she ran up to meet him. After they had put some distance between them and the school, Soryn noticed something was off. On most days Natalyne would keep talking from when they met up after school until they got to the house, but today she was uncharacteristically quiet.

"What's eating you, Nat?" Soryn asked.

"Nothing" Natalyne replied, avoiding eye-contact.

"Come on, I spent years bartering with adults. I can tell when someone's not being honest."

Natalyne sighed "Some boys at school were harassing me."

Soryn had to suppress his growing fury in order to keep listening. Natalyne was practically like a sister to him, and the thought of anyone ever daring to harm her was maddening.

"Hey, who knows? Maybe one of them will be reaped." said Soryn, trying to cheer her up.

"That's not funny, Soryn." Natalyne said in disgust. "Besides, there are a couple of them that don't even go to the school, so I'm guessing that they don't even go to the Reaping."

"How many of them are there?"

"There's usually just five, and no you aren't going to fight them. We can't have you getting sent to the stockade again."

In the past three years that Soryn and Natalyne had been living under the same roof, the only thing that she ever really took issue with in regards to Soryn's behavior was his tendency towards violence. Just in the past year he had been put in stocks twice for getting involved in fights at schools, with all but a few instances being on Natalyne's or someone else's behalf. Thankfully, he was still too young to be publicly punished with the typical lashing or execution.

The rest of their walk home was uneventful. When the two had gotten home, Soryn prepared to help Lloyd in the shop. Typically, Soryn just handled the shop-keeping, but some days he would work in the back, helping Lloyd with the actual butchering. Once Lloyd had learned that Soryn had spent time in the woods hunting, killing, and cleaning animals, he almost jumped at the opportunity to put him to work.

Knowing the Peacekeepers would be suspicious of a ten-year-old boy working in a butcher shop, Soryn busied himself by bringing back small animals from the woods. Once Soryn had grown old enough, Soryn was allowed to help in the shop, only suffering strange glances from customers until they had grown accustomed to his presence.

No one asked Soryn questions. Many of them were customers long before Soryn was born, and many of them had never ventured into the Widow's Peak, and by extension, had never seen him before and no one concerned themselves as to where he had come from. Soryn preferred the relative anonymity.

When they began to close up the shop for the day, one last customer came in. He appeared utterly unremarkable, with closely shorn brown hair and static brown eyes, along with wearing a long, brown coat that was worn and tattered. He seemed jumpy and smelled of alcohol. The man greeted Lloyd, his accent obviously from District Twelve, but with a slight hint of the Capitol, which immediately clued Soryn on the man's identity: Ulysses Hunter, District Twelve's mentor for the Hunger Games. Eventually, his job would be taken over by a Victor, but until then, they were stuck with him.

"This is going to be Natalyne's second year, isn't it?" Hunter asked

"Yes, but I'm holding together"

"I can't imagine what it's like having to go through something like this with one kid, much less two." This was a common occurrence. When standing next to each other, Soryn and Natalyne looked related to each other. Most assumed he was a cousin, rather than an outsider from a part of the district that no longer existed. Very few had ever suspected that Soryn was not related to the Raylands, and no one had ever confronted Lloyd on the matter, so they played along.

"Don't worry too much. The Games follow what the citizens want, and predictable is not something they want or like. They will likely mix it up; keep things interesting."

"Thank goodness for that."

The man finished his business and left the store, disappearing behind a corner. Once the store was empty, Lloyd had a coughing fit, something that had been becoming more frequent as of late. Every time Soryn had asked him about it, he told him not to worry about it. At dinner, Soryn and Natalyne discussed what they were going to be wearing to the Reaping ceremony, but the rest of the night was otherwise uneventful.

When Soryn bedded down for the night, he read through his journal. His journal was not so much a collection of his memoirs, but rather all of his experience and knowledge from his time on the streets and ventures into the woods committed to paper.

When he had resumed going to school, he had begun working on it to counter his boredom. After months of work, he had finally completed it. To make sure he did not forget what he had learned, Soryn read a little bit of his journal every night, making sure there were no errors.

Most of the journal was filled with entries and sketches of plants, knots, and anything else relevant when it came to surviving in the wilderness. Every now and then, there would be a random doodle or sketch of something unrelated to what he was writing about, but other than that, it looked like it had been written by a grown professional.

After he was done reading, Soryn put the journal away, safely secured under the floorboards, and immediately fell asleep.

/-\\\

At the break of dawn, Soryn woke up, jumping out of bed and making a noise for those downstairs. Today was one of the few days he could get out of the house and be himself.

Putting on clothes suitable for an outdoor expedition and grabbing a quick bite to eat, Soryn made his way to the edge of the district. Once he had gotten around the fence, he located his hiding spot for his hunting equipment.

Lacking the necessary skills, Soryn had not been able to build himself a bow, forcing him to utilize blades. Having fashioned himself two nearly identical short swords, he had had to work at becoming even faster and agile in order to catch some of his prey. Moving through the trees, Soryn could trail his quarries without ever touching the ground.

He started on the trail of a deer. Tracking the creature from above, Soryn watched his prey closely, inching ever closer to the position to strike. As he silently crept along the branches above his target, to his misfortune, the direction of the wind shifted and his target was off like a shot.

Soryn took off after it, running along the branches. Once he sufficiently overtaken his prey, he threw a knife while jumping between branches, landing the blade just to the right of the spine, hurting it enough for it to slow down, but too far down to bring it down quickly.

Without missing a beat, the hunter resumed his pursuit, but lost sight of his target soon afterwards. Clambering down from the treetops, Soryn knelt down at the trail the deer had left; a series of deep imprints in the soft earth with a spattering of blood on top. Sloppy.

There had been no sign of the Capitol lurking about, but the notion of them finding his prey first was discomforting. Any hunter knew what would happen if they were caught "poaching."

Following the trail for about half an hour, he spotted the deer lying on the ground with the knife still in its back. Disappearing from view, Soryn took to the trees once more, checking to make sure that no one was lying in wait. Satisfied with his observations, Soryn still approached his mark carefully and went to work, frequently looking over his shoulder. Once he had filled his satchel, he hid the corpse and made his way back to the district.

After cleaning and stowing his equipment, Soryn inspected the fence. A quick listen-check indicated that the power was currently off. More and more, the Capitol was leaving the fence off, most likely to conserve energy, and after a few years, the animals stopped trying to get in, which probably made keeping the fence going all of the time highly impractical.

As an unrelated bonus, the Peacekeepers began keeping closer the actual district, rather than the empty fields that the surrounded their little piece of civilization, making getting in and out of the district much easier.

During his years on the street, Soryn had memorized every patrol route that the Peacekeepers had, and with his knowledge of every shortcut and back alley in District Twelve, avoiding the authorities was almost no trouble at all.

The Peacekeepers obviously had their suspicions, but few times they had acted, they always found Soryn empty-handed. He had only ever been caught twice. The first time he was beaten and sent off with a warning because he was too young to be publically punished, and the other, he lost his catch to a hungry Peacekeeper. Since then he had taken extra steps to avoid being caught.

Entering through the back entrance to the house, Soryn left his catch of the day in the shop and went to go clean up. Natalyne was sitting in the living room reading a book that Soryn had gotten her for her birthday.

Noting his arrival, she put the book down and gave Soryn a hug. Even though he was not related to the Raylands by blood, without a family of his own, they were the closest thing, treating him like one of their own despite Soryn trying to act as cold and distant.

After helping Natalyne with chores around the house, they joined Lloyd at the table for dinner. The conversation was relaxed, but ultimately uninteresting as there were very few things that happened in District Twelve that were pleasant enough to talk about around the dinner table that had not been talked about at least a dozen times before. Occasionally something would happen at school, but other than that it was usually a variation of the same conversation.

Quickly stuffing down his dinner, Soryn sat at the table working on sketches of whatever came to his mind: landscapes, people around town, the stories that his parents had told him about the time before Panem. Vast tracts of land with hundreds of nations, some with dozens, if not hundreds of sprawling cites with larger population counts than the Capitol.

The cares people had back then and the wars people fought seemed so trivial, so mindless. But had anything really changed in the decades that had passed since the end of the Old World? If anything, the world had regressed back to the way things were back during the Dark Ages.

If the stories were true, the only thing that had really changed was the way things were fought and the fact that humanity was pushing towards the brink of extinction, if it was not there already.

The Capitol was careful in making sure the districts knew as little about each other as possible, a fact that was only reinforced after the Rebellion. For all anyone knew, humanity could be numbered less than a million.

When Soryn had finished drawing, he went to bed, dreaming of what it would have been like to live in the Old World.

/-\\\

Another day dawned on District Twelve. Soryn's eyes snapped open. Throwing off the sheets, Soryn jumped out of bed and did his morning stretches. He quickly put on the clothes he had laid out for himself for school and hurried downstairs.

Lloyd was cooking up breakfast, ham and eggs. He slid to the table pouring a cup of coffee for himself and grabbing a piece of fruit from the bowl in the center. Natalyne was not far behind him, sitting herself across from him at the table. The three ate their breakfast in silence; there was nothing else that had to be said.

Soryn scarfed down his food and went to grab his bag for school without bothering with his hair. Natalyne took the hint and hurried up to follow him out the door. The two walked towards school, with the sun shining on them and Natalyne talking like normal. Early on, Natalyne protested Soryn's disheveled appearance, but eventually settled for reminding him once every year.

If it was not for the fact that Natalyne pestered him about it every year, Soryn could hardly care less about how he looked. Even though it was an annual event and with nearly everyone had been anticipating for the past several months, the Reaping was still was hard for most to deal with.

When they got to the school, Natalyne gave Soryn a quick hug and ran off to meet her friends and he went to his first class, where he barely paid attention while the teacher droned on about the importance of their district. When lunch time rolled around again, Soryn went to the same table. Geordie was the first to join him.

"How long have we known each other?" Soryn asked.

"It's been a few years."

"Coming close to three." Soryn corrected. "During that time, have I ever asked anything from you or any of the others for that matter?"

"Not that I can think of."

"Well, now I have something to ask of you."

"What do you need?"

"If I anything happens to me, promise me you will look after Natalyne."

"What's on your mind, Soryn?" Geordie asked.

"Natalyne told me some idiots were picking on her the other day. She didn't say it, but it sounded like it there was more happening than she was telling me."

"Yeah, I heard about that."

Soryn drove his nails into the table. "What all have you heard?" he asked calmly.

Geordie licked his lips and took a deep breath. "Most of what I've heard is that someone saw her meeting with some kids after school. It hasn't been the first time she met with them, but they never seemed angry before, and until some Peacekeepers walked into view, it looked like they were going to hurt her."

Soryn clenched his fist, trying to hide his reaction. "As soon as school's over, I am getting her out of here as fast as I can."

"Be careful. These are not your average school bullies."

For the rest of the day, Soryn could not focus on school even if he tried, his thoughts drifting towards what he would do to the kids if they some much as laid a finger on Natalyne.

As soon as the final bell rang, Soryn was out of his seat and rushing to find Natalyne. When he went in front of the school, she was not waiting for him in her usual spot. Soryn quickly began scanning the area, making sure she was not taking shelter with a group of friends elsewhere.

After looking around for a minute, Lacie, one of Natalyne's friends ran up to him. Soryn wasted no time in pressing her for answers. "Where's Natalyne? Soryn asked.

"She already went home" Lacie said in confusion "Didn't she tell you that?"

"How long ago?" Soryn asked, still trying to contain his worry.

"Less than five minutes."

Just then Soryn saw two boys jogging down the road. Already suspecting their intent, he quietly followed them, ducking behind some bushes when the opportunity presented itself. The two boys darted around a corner while Soryn ascended to the rooftops.

Even though he had been living in relative luxury, Soryn had still made the effort to keep his skills sharp, and these boys were traversing on his turf. As the two rounded another corner, Soryn heard Natalyne scream, which was quickly cut short.

Getting into a better position, Soryn saw what was happening. Natalyne had been running, and it looked as if she had discarded her backpack during the pursuit. The leader, a red-headed teenager, was keeping one arm locked behind her back with his other hand over her mouth. Natalyne was trying to struggle, but every time she threw a punch or kick, she struck only air. As the others closed in, Soryn made his move.

There were at least seven of them, all of whom were neatly arranged in the narrow corridor. Soryn punched the nearest target behind the kneecap and followed up by sweeping the boy's leg from underneath him, letting gravity do the rest.

The next one spun around, his arm swinging around purposelessly, leaving an opening for Soyn to exploit. Grabbing the boy's arm, Soryn slid behind of his opponent, knocking one of his legs from underneath him, forcing him down to one knee while pushing the boy's arm upwards then behind his back, giving off a distinct cracking noise as it slammed against Soryn's shoulder.

As the second boy fell with his arm flopping around in an unnatural fashion, the others realized they were being attacked.

The third one, a boy with long, messy blond hair and dull brown eyes, turned around in time to receive a deft kick to the groin, doubling over to meet Soryn's kneecap, breaking the boy's nose.

Finishing the third boy off by elbowing him in the spine, Soryn ran to meet his next opponent, a girl who stood three inches taller than him. The girl dodged Soryn's first few punches and made several attempts to grab Soryn until they were interrupted by an oaf of a boy with buck teeth. Stooping down, he allowed the boy to carry his momentum over his shoulder.

Returning his attention to the girl, Soryn kicked at her midsection, only for his attack to be intercepted. With his foot firmly in her grasp, the girl was beginning to lift up before Soryn pushed himself upwards and kicked off of her chest, rolling backwards.

With his feet firmly on the ground again, Soryn slammed his full weight into the girl while she tried to regain her balance, smashing her into the wall before falling down. Before Soryn could recover, a tall dark haired boy tackled him.

Rolling with the momentum, Soryn knocked the boy off balance, giving him time to react before his opponent could recover. As the boy lunged at Soryn again, Soryn kicked at him with both legs, staggering him backwards.

While he was reeling, the oaf came back at him again. Ducking under a poorly aimed punch, Soryn punched him in the stomach, forcing the air from the oaf's lungs, followed by another punch to the throat.

While the oaf was staggering and gasping for oxygen, the dark haired boy had gotten back to his feet.

"Watch out!" Natalyne called from behind, leaving Soryn just enough time to avoid having his shoulder slashed open.

The leader had thrown Natalyne aside to one of his henchmen and pulled out a knife, joining his colleague who pulled out a knife of his own.

Before, the corridor had served as a useful ally, funneling his opponents down a single narrow path, now that he was facing two opponents, one on either side, the advantage was lost.

With both boys attacking at once, Soryn ran in the direction of the dark haired boy, grabbing his knife arm and spinning around him and pulling the knife free from his grip before sending him into his associate with a kick.

Now that he was armed, he had regained the advantage, and it was extremely unlikely that they had the same amount of experience with killing as he did, even if it was just animals.

The two boys charged at Soryn as one, the leader on the left and the dark haired boy on the right. Soryn ran to meet them, running up a wall and jumping off, slashing the dark haired boy wrist as he tried to grabbed him, then cutting him across his temple, nearly slicing the top part of his ear off.

Unable to continue fighting, the dark haired boy ran off. The leader gave his fleeing associate an annoyed look as he disappeared from view before returning his attention to Soryn.

As Soryn twirled the blade around in his hand, readying for another attack, the girl grabbed him from behind, pinning both of his arms to his sides.

Seizing the opportunity, the leader came at him with his knife raised and a fire in his eyes. Soryn snapped his head backward, sending the girl reeling pain from her broken nose, causing her to release her grip and dropping her to one knee.

Taking advantage of the brief respite, Soryn kicked her in the leg, breaking it and removing her from the fight, before spinning around to cross blades with the leader. The two slashed at each other; each deflecting the other's attacks while trying to land one of their own.

The fight seemed to be going nowhere; the two were too evenly matched. The two locked blades, forcing them to stare into each other's eyes. A sense of familiarity passed over Soryn; he had seen this boy before.

While the two stood there, the blond boy had gotten back to his feet and began to rush to his friend's aid, and judging by the vibrations in the ground, the oaf was coming to intervene as well.

The leader had noticed the same thing and slid their blades apart while stepping backwards, readying his knife for a final strike. Soryn sent his knife plunging into the blond boy's chest as he ran around the leader, then stepped forward, grabbing the leader's blade, and driving it into the oaf's leg, before turning to punch the leader to the ground, rendering him unconscious.

No sooner was the fight over when two squads of Peacekeepers closed in from both sides. The Captain observed the scene. "Secure the weapons and get the wounded to medical care. Everyone else goes to the stockades."

Two Peacekeepers stepped forward with stun batons drawn and grabbed Soryn's arms and slapped on a set of cuffs. As the Peacekeepers led Soryn away, the Captain turned to Natalyne. "Move along, Miss. There's nothing more to see here."

Natalyne hesitated for a moment, too terrified to move. "Go home, Natalyne" Soryn said reassuringly "I'll be fine." She began to walk away, taking one last glance over her shoulder and mouthing something before turning to run home.

As the Peacekeeper led Soryn, the leader, and anyone else who was not severely injured, people began to clear the streets and gather at windows. After practically being paraded through the district, the boys were placed in separate cells with their hands bound to the wall.

The leader sat in a cell across from Soryn, and the boy who Soryn had first knocked out was sitting in the cell next to him. The leader glared at Soryn while the other boy frantically looked for a way to escape, finding none. After a short while, Soryn remembered where he had seen this boy.

"How're you doing, Scamp?" asked Soryn

The boy's glare intensified, obviously recognizing the name.

Soryn smirked, satisfied with the reaction "Even if you didn't say anything, I still recognized you."

Now it was Scamp's turn to ask questions. "Why are you talking to me? You killed my friends. I almost killed that girl. We're supposed to be enemies."

"Trust me I haven't forgotten, but right now there are bigger things to worry about. We can worry about killing each other when we're free."

"You have a point." Scamp replied, begrudgingly agreeing with him "You wouldn't happen to have a way out of here."

"I've got nothing, and since you're asking I take it you don't either."  
Scamp shook his head.

"So all we can do now is hope the Capitol is in a good mood" Soryn said jokingly.

"Wonderful." Scamp replied sarcastically.

With nothing else to talk about and the stockade fell silent once more. When night approached, one by one, the boys fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

After an hour of fitful sleep, the door to the stockade opened, ushering in four Peacekeepers.

"A bit late for visitors, don't you think?" Scamp said sarcastically.

"Silence!" The Peacekeeper gruffly replied.

While one of them unlocked Soryn's cell, the others readied their batons. When the cell door opened and two of the Peacekeepers quickly strode in and slapped on a pair of cuffs before working on the stocks that held his hands.

"Your presence has been requested." the lead Peacekeeper.

Soryn kept his mouth shut, knowing his questions would not be answered in the stockade. Scamp and the other boy looked on as Soryn was led away, confused as to what was happening. As they stepped out, a hood was placed over Soryn's head, leaving the job of navigation to the Peacekeepers and greatly inhibiting any chance of escape.

It was not the first time Soryn had been thrown into the stockade, but being led out into the night, blind was a first. It was not likely he was being led to the platform; any time the Capitol preformed an execution they wanted as many people possible to witness the event.

That was unless the Capitol did not want any witnesses this time and the Peacekeepers were leading him to a secluded spot where they could plant two bullets in his chest and bury him in an unmarked grave without any fuss.

No matter what they did, worrying about it was not going to help the situation in any way; the only thing he could do now was follow wherever the Peacekeepers were leading him.

The smells changed the farther they walked. "Back in town." Soryn thought himself, and soon found himself being led up a flight of stairs. That limited the number of places they were taking him to.

After passing through a set of double doors, they moved through a series of hallways and up another flight of stairs before coming to a stop. One of the Peacekeepers knocked on a thick wooden door. A voice called from inside, beckoning them to enter.

The Peacekeepers led Soryn inside and roughly placed him in a chair and locking his cuffs to a table. The sound of heavy footsteps began to fade as the hood was pulled off, followed by the door shutting after the last Peacekeeper had left.

Soryn blinked, allowing his eyes to adjust to the lighting of the room. All it took was one glance to know he was in the Justice Building. No other place in District Twelve had wood paneling or the type of carpet that the room had, making Soryn feel out of place in his blood stained school clothes.

Leaning against the wall across the table from Soryn reading a file with the Capitol seal with his blond hair, which still had a slight hue of pink, dangling in front of his face, was Captain Nash, the Head Peacekeeper of District Twelve.

After reclaiming the districts, the Capitol wasted no time in reinstalling and replacing any leadership disposed by the rebels as well as deploying more Peacekeepers to replace the ones lost in the initial uprisings, undoing everything that had been accomplished in the rebellion.

A large portion of the Peacekeepers came from District Two, so for a Capitol citizen to be counted amongst their ranks was extremely rare. Like most men of his position, Nash took his job very seriously, but he also took exceptional amount of pleasure exerting the power he had over the citizens placed under his control.

Many could attest to the wild look in his blue eyes with each swing of the whip and the ever present grin as his victims' bodies twitched. Once it appeared that Soryn had settled in, Captain Nash began to read the file out loud.

"Soryn Lockwood. Age: fifteen. Former resident of Widow's Peak before its destruction. Subject has been suspected of numerous excursions beyond the boundaries set by the Capitol, as well as numerous suspected instances of poaching on Capitol lands. All attempts to apprehend the subject red-handed have proven unsuccessful due to his elusive nature." The Captain paused, looking at Soryn for a moment before resuming. Captain Nash chuckled and placed the file on the table, settling in the seat across from Soryn. "Do you know why we have not come after you, especially with the evidence that we have?"

Soryn simply stared as Nash continued with his monologue.

"Before now, you were too young to fully prosecute. Some people tend to be uneasy with punishing a child the same way as an adult, even among the Peacekeepers, and without any parents to punish in your stead we were forced to stay our hand.

After a while, you got better at your work, making it much harder to track you, much less catch you in the act, so we could not punish you without risking an uprising. Are you with me so far?"

The silence seemed to encourage him to continue.

"Now that we have you in for possession of weapons as well as assault and murder, we are simply going to have to take care of this now, no matter how young you are." 

There was no point in trying to argue with the Head Peacekeeper. When Soryn threw the blade into the boy's chest, he knew that the boy would not make it through the night, if he even made it to medical treatment. They had re-spun the event that made Soryn look like an insurrectionist and were using his actions against him.

He was not sorry, but he was angry. This was typical of the Capitol. "But if I'm still alive…?" he thought.

"Despite all of this, we still have a use for you." Nash said, interrupting Soryn's thoughts.

Soryn's ears perked. There was the catch. Nash smiled, obviously pleased with Soryn's reaction. "I am sure you are familiar with the Hunger Games."

"Pretty much the only thing on television? Who hasn't?"

Nash scoffed at Soryn's remark. "You must be wondering 'why go through with this? I mean, aren't the Games already pretty much as death sentence?'"

Soryn continued to stare at Nash, suppressing every emotion while he listened to the egotistical Peacekeeper ramble on, convincing Soryn that Nash loved the sound of his own voice.

"Even if you had the option to do so, if you were to refuse, you would be old enough to prosecute you as if you were an adult without the fear of repercussion from the public, and who knows what could happen to the Raylands in your absence, especially precious Natalyne. Though I'm sure Lloyd would not fare much better, knowing his condition."

Soryn kept an emotionless mask, but Nash knew he had hit a soft spot.

"Look at it this way: if you follow through with this; make the journey to the Capitol and win the Hunger Games, you not only gain eternal glory, fame, and incredible fortune for yourself, you can also use your newly acquired influence to improve Lloyd's and Natalyne's lives as well. You would be set for life."

"But not everyone survives." Soryn pointed out.

"True. But even if you were to fall, that would be the end of any reason for us to go after the Raylands on your account."

Soryn felt like screaming. This was not a choice by any stretch of the imagination. Nash had something to gain by sending Soryn to the arena and the options were laid out in a manner that provided only the illusion of choice.

A sadistic smile spread over the man's face. "You seem agitated, but let's face. I've seen the results of your skills; your odds as good as anyone else's in surviving the Games, maybe even better." Nash paused to let this revelation sink in.

Soryn sighed "And if I refused your offer?"

"I believe I made myself clear."

Soryn contemplated his options. Either way, he was doomed. The only difference was who he was going to bring down with him.

/-\\\

Soryn was led back into his cell to insure that he would not try to escape between now and the Reaping Ceremony, which was still almost two days away.

"What was that for?" Scamp asked as soon as the Peacekeepers were out of earshot.

"It looks like I might be here for a little while longer."

"They didn't rough ya up or anything? Lucky."

"I guess you could say that."

The three sat in silence, contemplating their fates. When dawn broke the next morning, another squad of Peacekeepers came into the stockade. This time it was Scamp's and the other boy's turn. The Peacekeepers entered Scamp's cell, pressing an electrified baton to subdue him.

Once Scamp was in handcuffs and escorted outside, they came for his compatriot. Using the same method as before, they stunned the other boy, but as they dragged him outside, he wriggled free and punched the nearest Peacekeeper, and began to wrestle with the next before he could take a swing.

Responding to the commotion, the others came in and began mercilessly beating the boy. Having finally wrestled the baton from the other Peacekeepers hands, he savagely swung his newly acquired weapon at the first Peacekeeper's head.

Anticipating this move the Peacekeeper, sidestepping the attack and jabbed the end of his baton into the boy's throat. The other guards joined in beating the boy while he fruitlessly kicked at their shins. Even after he stopped moving, the beating continued with blood spattering the Peacekeepers' white uniforms. Once the guards stopped, one of them checked for a pulse. Nodding to his associates, they dragged the body out of the stockade.

Soryn quietly cursed the Peacekeepers as they departed, leaving only a pool of blood as evidence to their brutality. Even though the boy was had tried to kill him the day before, the force used was barbaric.

Swallowing, he turned back to the most comfortable position he could manage. He was not a savior, not a rebel to take down the Capitol. The rest of the day passed in silence as did the night.

The next morning, Natalyne came to see Soryn as the Peacekeepers let him loose. She ran up to him and gave him a hug before inspecting him as if to make sure that he was still in one piece.

While he and Natalyne were leaving, the Peacekeepers dragged Scamp back to his cell, beaten bloody and groaning in pain from his public punishment. Natalyne averted her eyes, not recognizing him as the boy who had attacked her two days ago, nor did Soryn care to remind her.

Once they had put some distance between them and the stockade, Natalyne quickly went to mothering him.

"Are you okay?" she asked as she looked him over and dusted off his back.

"Yeah, I'm fine" Soryn lied.

"Grandpa was worried you might get taken to the platform despite the fact that you aren't sixteen yet."

"They know what would happen if they did anything like that."

"We have got to get you cleaned up for the Reaping Ceremony" Natalyne said, quickly changing the subject. "You look awful."

The two walked home, with the sun pounding the district. When Soryn walked through the front door, Lloyd rushed to the door and gave Soryn a great bear hug, lifting him off the ground and squeezing him to the point of cutting off oxygen.

"I'm glad you're okay." said Lloyd with a sigh of relief. "I was going to go with Natalyne, but she insisted that she could handle escorting you back herself."

"You're going to have a time of it as it is going to town square for the Reaping this afternoon." Natalyne said in a tone that resembled a mother disciplining an errant child."

"It's fine." Soryn said, heading off the argument before it began. "There wasn't much to see anyways."

There was no way he could tell them about the deal he had made on their behalf. All that he could do is hope that they would be able to bear watching him endure the ordeal ahead.

Climbing the stairs to his room, he put on his best clothes. Going to the opening ceremony to what could be considered his publicized execution, he even took some time to slick his hair back. Taking one last look in the mirror, he adjusted his shirt, brushing away the wrinkles and tucking in his shirt tight.

Coming down the stairs, Soryn found Natalyne was leaning against the railing with a brush in hand.

"Wow, this is a shock" Natalyne said, surprised at Soryn's appearance.

"Disappointed that you won't get to play with my hair?" Soryn said teasingly.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm thrilled that you look so nice, it's just that I just thought I was going to have work on you some more just to make you presentable."

"No sweat off my back." Soryn said as he poured himself a cup of water. "What was it that you mouthed at me the other day? Before the Peacekeepers dragged me off?"

Her face saddened as she turned to put the brush on the table. "I said I was sorry."

"For what?"

"You know how Grandpa has been coughing? I was getting him medicine from Scamp and his gang."

"I can't exactly fault you for doing that. My only problem is that you put yourself in such a position without telling me."

"But it's my fault that you got sent to the stockades."

"Don't worry about that. The important thing is that you're alive. The rest of this problem will be worked out one way or another." With one last gulp, Soryn emptied his cup. "Let's not wait any longer; we have a funeral to go to."

"That's not funny." said Natalyne, smacking Soryn upside the head as they walked out the door.

"See you after the Reaping." Lloyd called behind them.

"Naturally." Soryn replied, trying to ignore the hidden implication of that statement.

It was a short walk from the house to the square. The crowds were already gathering, both on the stands and in the area immediately in front of the Justice Building.  
Soryn and Natalyne walked through the checkpoint before being split up into their respective groups.

After everyone had settled in, Mayor Silverstone and Mizzie Donnel stepped onto the stage.

Over the past six years Silverstone had become a shadow of his former self, enduring not only the loss of his daughter in the Games, but his wife's subsequent suicide. His once healthy, muscular frame had withered to almost skin and bones, standing slightly hunched over. Only now did Soryn realize how anyone could maintain such composure.

The Capitol never failed to punish any crime, especially treason, and the punishment for the Mayor of District Twelve was the sacrifice of his daughter. The moment he had surrendered, he must have known what price he would pay for being on the losing side. Just another reminder to those who would dare to defy the Capitol.

After the first year of the Games had passed, the Capitol had made some modifications to the ceremony, which now began with a video presented by the Capitol, followed by a reading of the Treaty of Treason by the Mayor. Silverstone seemed like he could barely muster the strength to speak.

It would be simpler to replace him; let him rot in whatever peace he could while someone else took up the uncoveted position, but the Capitol liked visible testimonies to their power.

Once he was done, Mizzie Donnel took the stage. While she was busy greeting the district, Soryn glanced around at the stands; parents wringing their hands, hoping that their sons or daughters would be spared for another year, veterans staring at the stage with narrowed eyes, seething with hatred, and if Soryn was not mistaken, people quietly taking bets amongst each other.

"Ladies first!" Mizzie Donnel said with her voice echoing with the loudspeaker across the square, bringing Soryn back into the present. As always, she spent a minute to spin her hand around in the bowl, building up the suspense and anxiety with every turn before finally pulling out a slip of paper.

Unfolding the slip of paper, Mizzie read off the name of the female tribute for the seventh Hunger Games. "Saerah Merrick!"

Soryn's heart almost skipped a beat, but he did not have to that name repeated; he knew what he heard.

The memory of Camille's last moments flashed through his mind. The last time he had seen Saerah was seven years ago, almost to the day. She had grown into a spitting image of Camille, her dark hair braided into a crown with the excess trailing down her back.

While it was almost impossible for Soryn to forget a face, he doubted that she would recognize him after seven years, if she even thought he was still alive. He could not imagine the pain that her mother was going through.

Soryn had never paid the Merricks a visit since that fateful day, barely mustering the courage to leave a note before disappearing from their lives. Clenching his fist, he hopped someone would volunteer in her place, but he knew that would not happen.

While it was common in District Twelve for people to help each other in times of need, for someone to sacrifice themselves, let alone their loved ones for someone else's sake was almost unheard of, and the only exception to that rule was during the Rebellion. Expecting their children to make a decision on this scale was far beyond the realms of probability.

With no one standing to take her place, Mizzie moved on to the boys. As she spun her hand through the slips of paper, everyone else was sitting on the edge of their seats in anticipation.

There was no turning back. As he had seen so many times before, Mizzie plucked a slip of paper and drew it from the bowl. No matter what name was on it, Soryn knew what the outcome would be. Mizzie unfolded the slip, pursing her lips as she quietly read it to herself.

Whatever the name was that was on the slip was not his. She had undoubtedly been informed of the deviation in standard procedure. For a moment it seemed like she was hesitating. Her eyes briefly shifted to Nash, then proclaiming for all to hear "Soryn Lockwood!"

The noise from the crowd faded from Soryn's perception as he stepped forward to the stage without the slightest hint of fear, climbing the stairs to the stage while Mizzie and Saerah stared down at him.

To everyone else, it seemed like random chance, but to the select few who knew the truth, it was nothing but the manipulation of the system. Once he took his place on stage, Mizzie presented the tributes from District Twelve for the world to see.

"Your representatives for the Seventh annual Hunger Games: Saerah Merrick and Soryn Lockwood"

There was not much in the way of clapping and what little there was came across as unenthusiastic at best. Most of the tributes from District Twelve had barely made it past the opening bloodbath, if that, much less making it to the final eight. Even Maverick Carrow, District Twelve's first and best candidate, had fallen short of victory. Like Nash had said, to most, being reaped was nothing less than a death sentence. Not something to be envied or celebrated.

The two tributes were soon rushed into the Justice Building, each being placed in a separate room. Soryn looked around, tracing his hands along the wooden paneling. Just a few days ago he was in a room much like this one.

As he looked around, admiring the pieces of furniture, the door swung open. Natalyne and Lloyd came rushing through, both hugging Soryn tightly.

"I can't believe it." Natalyne said, he voice quivering as she was futilely holding back tears.

"We both knew this was a possibility." said Soryn, reassuringly placing a hand on her shoulder. "It took me a while to finish it, but I have a journal back home with everything that I know written down. Should you need anything, read through and the answer should easy to find."

Lloyd nodded, seemingly understanding the meaning of what Soryn meant. Natalyne was on the verge of sobbing.

"Look, it's not like I haven't done anything like this before, and they will be leaving equipment and supplies out for us at the start. They'll even have weapons lying around. If anything, they will be making things easier for me."

Natalyne nodded, seemingly satisfied. "So what are you going to do?" Natalyne asked quietly.

"I am going to come home" said Soryn, mustering the best smile he manage. Natalyne hugged Soryn once more, pressing her ear against his chest.

"Promise?" she quietly asked.

"I promise." It was not his place to promise such things, but if she could hold onto a  
fragile glimmer of hope, that would be his strength in the coming weeks.

It was not long before the Peacekeepers were escorting Lloyd and Natalyne out of the room. His companions from school came in next.

"You seem to be holding up pretty well" said Geordie.

"I had a pretty stressful childhood. Remember what I asked you about the other day?"

"I have not forgotten."

"Can you handle that?"

"I wouldn't have made that promise otherwise" Geordie affirmed, his tone far more mature than Soryn heard from him before.

"Thank you."

Charna laughed. "Wow, Soryn. I never thought you would be this emotional."

"What do you mean? Of course I emote."

"You joke and pitch a fit like a master, but I've never seen you truly serious." Maxwell added.

"Really?" Soryn replied, looking at Ollie who shrugged in response.

"Oh! I almost forgot." Maxwell handed him a bag. The smell of freshly baked goods wafted from the opening.

"So that was what that was."

"A gift from my dad. My family was going to eat them after, the Reaping, but he figured we might want one last snack together.

The cookies were simple but well received and devoured before their three minutes were up.

As they all turned to leave, Charna turned around. "Don't die out there, you hear? She said "Otherwise I'll drag you from your grave and make you apologize to Natalyne and the rest of us."

"Okay, I'll hold you to that." Soryn chuckled, scratching behind his ear.

As the door closed, he realized that he would miss them as much as they would miss him. As much as he tried to avoid, they were his friends.

After all of the visitors, what few there were, had passed through, a squad of Peacekeepers escorted Soryn and Saerah to the train.

She still seemed like she could not recognize him, nor was she given any time to dwell on that matter with cameras and crowds pressing from nearly every direction.

Soryn smiled for the cameras. Everyone else he had seen reaped before either looked shocked, angry, or emotionless when their name was called, and in Soryn's mind it was time to mix things up a little.

Mizzie was the only person to follow them as they boarded the train, leading them up a short set of steps.

The inside of the car was more exquisite that any room of the Justice Building that Soryn had ever seen. Tables filled with rich food, the finest decorations, all in an air-conditioned car. Mizzie showed them each of their private chambers where they would be sleeping for the night before returning to the dining area. No one else was in the room.

"He's supposed to be here" Mizzie said, sighing impatiently.

"Who?" asked Saerah

"Oh, your mentor" Mizzie said with a laugh. "He is probably sleeping right now. I will go find him." Mizzie left the room, leaving Soryn and Saerah to sit in an uncomfortable silence. After several false starts, Saerah finally spoke up. "Have we met before?"

"I wouldn't be surprised; District Twelve is a small place." Soryn muttered, stuffing a sweet roll into his mouth. He had never tasted anything this fine before.

"Have you ever been to the Seam?"

"I've passed through there a couple of times." Soryn replied, knowing he was not lying to any degree.

"Perhaps school then?"

"Either that or the butcher shop"

"I've never been to that part of town. My family's too poor to afford things like that, and the few times we can, my mother usually goes to get it."

"Then you probably remember the Peacekeepers hauling me off to the stockade once or twice. There were usually quite a few spectators as I recall."

A look of recognition passed over her face. "That was you!?"

Soryn nodded, smugly smiling as he recalled each time he was dragged off. Natalyne never approved of his behavior, but she still appreciated him being there.

Their conversation was soon interrupted by Mizzie, who was followed by a man who reeked of alcohol. Evidently, Hunter's concern for personal hygiene did not change when he expected to be making a public appearance. Judging his appearance, he had managed to get in the train and fall asleep in the time it took for all of the visitors to pass through.

"So these are this year's lucky winners" the man said, clapping his hands together, wringing them and crackling his joints.

"I guess you could say that" Soryn flatly replied.

"Excellent." the man said as he drunkenly staggered into a chair "My name is Ulysses Hunter, District Twelve's mentor."

"What's your job as a mentor?" Soryn asked.

"Me? I simply watch as you're prettied up and paraded around the Capitol and occasionally helping out where need be, drumming up sponsors and what not. After the Games start, I manage the supplies you receive, if you're popular enough to get any sponsors, and overall give you a chance to survive this madness."

"What can you tell us about the Games? How do we survive?" asked Saerah.

Hunter chuckled "There's nothing that I can tell you that will help you survive, you either have what it takes or you die."

Saerah quickly stood up, knocking her chair backwards in the process as she threw a punch aimed for Hunter's head. A loud snap echoed as her fist met his palm. After a moment of holding her hand in place, Hunter lazily tossed it aside and finished his bottle of liquor.

"Friggin' reflexes." He muttered. "I thought this much alcohol would have slowed them down.

A tense silence fell on the room. Mizzie looked at the two of them.

"Take it easy, sweetheart. My job is to help make things entertaining by helping you make an impression, both in and out of the arena."

As Saerah retreated to her chair, Soryn decided to press further "Even so, any advice would be appreciated. It's not like either of us have any real field experience."

Hunter stopped mid-swig and looked at Soryn, narrowing his eyes and looked at the tributes, giving both of them a hard stare before putting his bottle down.

"First off, you have to fight for it." said Hunter, leaning back into his chair. "Fight and live, then you get to do other important things."

"Like what?" asked Soryn.

"Find water. You can endure most situations without weapons, medical supplies, and other creature comforts, but without water, you'll be dead in three days or less depending on how much you're exerting yourself, and that's not mentioning other factors like the environment the arena will be."

The two tributes looked at each other. In the past six years, the Games had taken place in a number of different environments, each presenting a vast array of challenges for the tributes.

Hunter took another swig and sighed. "Know your strengths and weaknesses, how you fight, and whatever skills you possess, no matter how obscure and useless they seem; they could very well save your life."

"How obscure are we talking here?" asked Saerah.

"Anything that seemed like it wasn't important; maybe it's something that simply made life easier. That sort of stuff" Hunter replied, finishing the bottle before nearly slamming it against the table. "Heck, maybe even a hobby would come in handy."

By then, Mizzie decided it was time to interrupt the conversation. "The recap for todays' Reapings will be on later this evening"

"Wake me when they come on." Hunter grunted, rising from his seat and meandered out of the room.

"Such manners" Mizzie said, shaking her head disapprovingly as Hunter left the room. "I hope you two are better behaved when we arrive."

The next few hours dragged as Mizzie droned on about Capitol fashions and proper etiquette while Soryn and Saerah largely ignored her and ate whatever they found appealing.

Once they had gotten Hunter to wake up, the four of them gathered in front of a television set. Moving from first to last, the videos of the Reapings showcased the opposition that they would be facing when the time came.

In District One, the initial female tribute was quickly replaced by a volunteer, a tall, red-haired girl who almost looked too old to participate. In District Two, a boy solemnly stepped forward to the stage in place of a boy who had been reaped in his second year. District Three had two volunteers, a boy and a girl, both hardly older than Soryn, who took the stage with uncommon elegance.

With each video clip that played, Soryn watched every movement, every emotional tick that play across each tribute's face, trying to figure out the competition. A boy who quivered as the call for volunteers went unanswered, a girl who grinned when she heard her name read off.

When it came to District Twelve, Soryn had noticed that Hunter had dozed off, while Mizzie bubbled with excitement, critiquing both tributes' posture and form. Once the recap was over with, Mizzie excused herself, while Soryn and Saerah left Hunter snoring in his chair.

"Do you have a token?" Saerah asked

"A what?"

"Every tribute is allowed to wear a token from their district; a piece of jewelry, a good luck charm, or something else that the tribute chose to have on them to remind them of home when they go into the arena." Saerah reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of wood that had been carved into the shaped of a flower and painted white. "It's a gift from my half-brother. He gave it to me when my family visited me while they had us locked up in the Justice Building."

"It's a primrose" Soryn remarked.

"My mother grows them back in our garden back home." Saerah said cheerfully. Her voice trailed off and face changed expression to that of longing.

"Would something like this count?" asked Soryn, pulling out mother's locket.

"That looks pretty" Saerah said thoughtfully

"It's the last thing I really have of my parents" replied Soryn, stuffing the locket back into his shirt.

"What happened to them?" Saerah softly asked.

"I don't know." Soryn replied "They died during the rebellion."

"I had a sister who died shortly after the fighting stopped. All we had to tell us what had happened was a note that was left on our doorstep"

Soryn clenched his jaw. "Do you have any idea who left the note?"

"Not really. There was this kid who Camille hung out with around that time that I never saw again." Saerah looked out the window, staring into the distance. "Before today, I had hoped to get to meet him; get some answers as to why my sister never came back" Saerah looked down, wiping away a tear that slid down her face. "Now it looks like I will never get that chance"

The two of them looked out the window, watching in silence as the landscape rushed past them. Saerah took a deep breath then turned to go to her room. "Don't stay up too late." she said as she left the room, leaving Soryn to ponder his thoughts on his own.

"Mrs. Merrick must have remarried after Camille's death." Soryn thought. Hopefully her mother was doing well in the face of the likely-hood of losing another daughter.

"I guess that's how it's going to be." He muttered to himself. "I'm a blight on life, aren't I?"


	6. Chapter 6

"_What are your thoughts on this year's crop of tributes?"_

_"You know how little I care about these sorts of things."_

_"The people love hearing your opinions regardless. It makes you seem a little more normal."_

_"I care even less about that."_

_(Silence)_

_"Did you hear about Nash?"_

_"What do you think?"_

_"Should we have him taken care of yet?"_

_"Lay off for now. He should be able to provide some entertainment for a little while longer."  
_  
\- Conversation between President Valerii and Icchacus Agrippa

Soryn's eyes snapped open at the sound of Mizzie's clicking heels. Not ten seconds later, there was knocking on the door. For the sake of some extra sleep, Soryn was tempted to bury his head underneath the pillow, but Mizzie would not likely leave him alone, so he rose from bed. 

"Good morning! Good morning! We have a big day ahead of us!" Mizzie said jubilantly as Soryn opened the door, resisting the urge to slam it shut again. "Get dressed and meet us at the dinner table."

Throwing on a black buttoned up shirt and tan slacks from the closet, he went to join the others.

When Soryn arrived for breakfast, Saerah was already seated and working on some hardboiled eggs. Hunter stood at one end of the table, hands clasped behind his back, watching the table like a hawk.

Whether by choice or by being coerced into doing so by Mizzie, Hunter had showered and looked reasonably coherent and very much presentable, especially when compared to his appearance the day before, though the relaxed expression that he had had before was replaced by a stern glare, contrasting Mizzie's perpetual smile.

Mizzie was rambling on about various rumors even though no one was paying any attention. Hunter was the first to acknowledge Soryn presence.

"It's about time you showed up." said Hunter, displeased with something that had occurred between falling asleep in front of the television set and coming for breakfast. "Now that we are all here, we are going to give you a quick rundown of what will be happening once we get off the train."

Mizzie stood right next to Hunter; one adorned in bright, cheery colors with an expression to match, the other was dark and sullen, clad in black, brown, and olive. Mizzie started off their coordinated briefing.

"When we arrive at the Capitol, you will be meeting with your stylists."

"Their job is to make you pretty for the entirety of your stay here in the Capitol." Hunter interjected.

"This will make it easier for you to win the attention of potential sponsors; people who make financial donations so Mr. Hunter can send them to you when you need them." Mizzie continued.

"Their support could mean the difference between life and death. A lifeline when you are in most desperate need of assistance." Hunter added.

"Keep a big smile on those face. There is going to be a huge crowd at the platform to greet you."

Hunter rolled his eyes, obviously uninterested in the social extravaganza that the Capitol citizens made the Games out to be, but otherwise did not break his composure. Why they elected to produce a coordinated front was beyond Soryn's or Saerah's imagination.

The rest morning passed uneventfully on to the afternoon. After lunch, Mizzie came back into the dining car bubbling with excitement. "I have just been informed that we will be arriving in a few moments. If you look out the window, you will be able to see the marvel that is the Capitol skyline."

Soryn and Saerah stood up and rushed to the windows just as the outside became black as night. "That doesn't seem like much." Saerah flatly remarked.

"Give it a minute." said Hunter.

The walls of granite rushed by a little longer before opening to the Capitol's brilliantly colored skyline. Like Mizzie had said, it was a marvel; the crown jewel of Panem.

Very few people from the districts had ever been inside of the Capitol's mountain walls. There were rumors about some rebels who had made it into the city, but it was not liable to be true.

Everyone watched quietly, taking in the scene as the city flew past them. It was not long before they entered the train station, packed with cheering crowds. Soryn stared out back at them, everyone adorned in vibrant colors and ridiculous hairstyles, waving at the train.

Without realizing it, Soryn began waving back at them, but did not stop even after he had realized what he was doing, even becoming more animated in his gestures.

"What are you doing that for?" asked Saerah

"Because this is quite literally a once in a lifetime opportunity" Soryn replied, not looking away from the window "If I am going to die, I am going to make sure they remember me."

Once the train had come to a stop, Saerah and Soryn were hurried out through the crowd and cameras.

/-\\\

Soryn quietly seethed in his chair and gripped the armrests tightly while the stylists worked on him, regretting not having showered on the train.

Initially, they had expressed utter shock at the condition he was in. Dirt and grime covering most of his surface area, a couple of missing toenails and the two toes missing from the right side of his right foot, numerous scars that marked his body, but once they had stopped criticizing his "unbelievable" state, they went right to work.

He was used to bathing on a regular basis, but the brushes, soaps, and ointments that were being used on him felt like knives and pinpricks across his skin. If he had not known better, Soryn would have assumed that he had ended up in a Capitol torture chamber.

While the stylists were somewhat ditzy, they were completely polite, but utterly oblivious to Soryn's discomfort, largely because he did not let his face hint at any sort of emotion and the machines they were using masked the sound of him quietly growling.

To help take his mind off of his annoyance and discomfort, Soryn mentally recited various plants found in District Twelve, the stylists rambled on about the latest gossip and fashions. From what Soryn was able to decipher from the conversation, the man with fiery red hair was Rufus and seemed to have an obsession with food eating despite his frame and build indicating otherwise. The blonde was called Aurelia and liked poetry and dance. Celia was significantly older, and functioned as the leader of the three. It was difficult to find out anything about her as she spent time talking about others than she did about herself.

When the poking, prodding, and scraping stop, they stood Soryn in front of a mirror; he could hardly recognize himself. The lines on his face that were usually filled with dirt had completely vanished, and his scraggly dark brown hair shone in the light, straightened out to where it stopped just above his shoulders.

His typically older appearance had given way to a look that better reflected his age, and to his great displeasure, made him look girly.

"I think we are ready for her now." Rufus said, sliding his hand over his hair before following Aurelia out the door.

Shortly after, a tall, dark-haired woman came in. In stark contrast with the vibrantly colored Capitol citizens, she wore dark muted colors that complimented her hair. Wherever she was from, she was definitely not from the Capitol. Celia politely bowed and moved to follow her gossip partners.

"He's all yours, Carlynne" Celia said as she exited the room.

Once the door was closed, she circled around Soryn, sizing him up. "Follow me" she said, suddenly, and spun around and walked into a sitting room. She gestured to a pair of seats next to a table, laden with dinner. Roast duck with mashed potatoes topped with cream gravy, followed up by some sort of cake that Soryn did not recognize.

"This is an interesting problem." said Carlynne

"What is?"

"Usually, my partner and I have had to worry more about making a girl look less boyish rather than making a boy look less feminine."

"Thanks for pointing that out." Soryn remarked with bitterness.

"Your voice doesn't help either. Seriously, shouldn't you have already hit puberty?"

"Aren't you supposed to helping me instead of heckling me?"

"Nothing that can't be fixed with the proper application of makeup and proper training, and it really isn't that big of an issue either." She replied as she pulled out a folder.

"My partner and I have spent some time coming up with a different costume this year."

"Let me guess: it has something to do with what our district produces?"

Carlynne shot a look a Soryn. "A smart mouth. Boy, are they going to love you."

"Was that meant to be sarcastic?"

"You seem to be a smart kid, so I'll let you figure it out."

Unlike most people he had encountered before, Soryn could not figure her out. She did not express a high level of emotion, nor was she incredibly reserved. Her words did not seem to carry any hidden message that clarified whether she was being honest or if she was making fun of him.

"And as to your first question: yes…in a matter of speaking" She showed Soryn her notebook.

Soryn looked at it intently, inspecting every fine detail, nodding in approval. Carlynne smiled. "Are you ready to take the field, soldier?"

/-\\\

After being fitted into his outfit and some small adjustments to compensate for his height, even with his slight build, he cut a dashing figure.

From head to toe, he was covered in black. A suit of armor textured to look like coal, with a long black silk cape draping down to his ankles. The boots were heavier than he would have liked, and the gauntlets limited his articulation. Obviously it was not meant to be worn in real combat.

They were soon joined by Saerah and her stylist, Darius. "You look nice." Saerah said sheepishly.

"You don't look bad yourself" replied Soryn. Saerah smirked and turned to the stylists.

"So what's the plan?"

"Stand on the chariot for the duration of the parade, listen to a brief speech from President Valerii, then meet up with your mentor and escort to enter the training center" Carlynne rattled off. "The rest is up to you" Soryn and Saerah looked at each other.

"Alright" said Saerah, taking a deep breath. "Let's do this."

The two tributes from District Twelve mounted their chariot and waited for the others to move forward. "Got any ideas?" Saerah whispered once they were settled.

"I figured we play up the crowd."

"Like what you did on the way in? I'm not up for that."

"Come on, have some fun with this. Smile and wave for the crowds and cameras; they eat that stuff up."

"Among other things, I'm sure." Saerah chuckled.

"At least try to smile. It would be pretty awkward for me to be energetic while you're being stoic."

After some hesitation, she nodded in agreement as the chariot moved forward. The horses required no commands or gestures from anyone as they moved along the parade route.

Lining each side of the pathway, stands filled with jubilant crowds cheered praises. Soryn smiled widely, wildly pointing into the crowd, receiving flowers and blown kisses in reply. While not as animated, Saerah did her best to appear positive.

A slight bump nearly sent both of them tumbling off the back of the chariot. Soryn quickly grasped the front railing at the same time as Saerah. Once he had steadied himself, Soryn began to release his grip on the chariot.

"Please don't move your hand; I might fall off." said Saerah, barely audible of the din of the crowd. Soryn took a deep breath and continued waving with his free hand.

In all the previous years, no one really paid too much attention to the tributes of District Twelve, but surprisingly, the focus shifted to them after the initial tributes had passed.

If the screens were any indicator Districts One through Four were the leading contenders in regards to popularity, mainly due to the fact that nearly all of the previous victors came from those districts.

When they began to move away from the crowds, Soryn met the glance from the girl in the chariot in front of them. In contrast to her partner, she was blond with fair skin, not to mention the fact that she stood a good deal shorter than him as well. She quickly turned around as they pulled into the City Circle.

At the balcony of the President's Mansion stood President Valerii. Valerii was a very serious looking man, especially when compared to his predecessor, President Balbus, with deep lines and a long, narrow, cleanly shaven face. He projected an intimidating and commanding presence about himself, and judging by some of the marks on his face had spent some time in the military; a rare occurrence for Capitol citizens under normal circumstances and unheard of for the upper elite.

He still possessed a full head of silver hair that was only beginning to thin out on the top, and his watery grey eyes were intensely focused, almost as if he intended to stare into the souls of everyone who met his gaze. Then, as if putting on a mask, Valerii smiled and addressed them.

"Greeting tributes, we of the Capitol welcome you to our city. You have all come from a myriad of backgrounds to this glorious point in your lives. For the next few days, you will train and prepare for the coming trials. Stay strong and steel yourselves, and good luck to you all."

Singling the end of his speech, the national anthem played, ushering them into the training center. As they passed, Valerii's eyes rested on Soryn and a hint of displeasure flashed across his face.

Soryn glanced back one last time before the gates closed behind them, cutting them off from society. The prep teams quickly swarmed their respective tributes, praising them or critiquing them for their respective performances.

"Well done!" Carlynne said, hugging both of them. "The hand-holding was a nice touch"

"It was either that or fall off." replied Soryn.

"Either way, the people loved it. It made you stand apart from your competition."

"That's good news." Soryn said, smiling as he removed his helmet.

"Well, well" said Mizzie "Let's not dilly-dally. It's time to get you to your rooms."

/-\\\

Soryn and Saerah were impressed by what they had seen in the train, but the suite in the training center was an entirely different level of decadence. The common areas were spacious to the point of being intimidating. Food was already being laid out on the table.

The two were allowed to shower and change before dinner. After a few minutes of disorientation, Soryn managed to decipher the controls enough to figure out how to get the temperature to his liking and get some soap to wash off the remaining grime from District Twelve he may have had on him.

The conversation around dinner consisted mostly of Mizzie, Hunter, Carlynne, and Darius chatting about the opening parade, namely in regards to the reaction the two of them got from the Capitol citizens. The general consensus was positive, but they were still overshadowed by the tributes from Two and Three.

During the parade, they had seen shots of the first four pairs. The tributes of District One were adorned in white feathers, and the District Two tributes were dressed as Roman Centurions, but they were both blown away by the tributes of District Three and their suits covered with countless lights that shimmered in a vast array of colors. Both tributes sported crowns practically made of light.

Standing tall and proud, focused and unmoving and faces devoid of any emotion, the crowd cheered their names as they passed. If anyone was going to get any substantial financial support, they would. Once it seemed like there was nothing left to say of the subject, the focus moved back to Soryn and Saerah and what would be happening over the next few days.

Hunter started off, after he finished downing yet another bottle of alcohol. "Like the President said, you're going to have some time to prepare before you're thrown to the wolves. Focus on your weak points and save your specialties for the private sessions with the Gamemakers"

"Private session?" asked Saerah

"That's when your skills will assessed for your training score, which can be a big factor in the amount of sponsors you get."

"Let's get the young people to bed." Mizzie said in a singsong tone. "We have a big day tomorrow."

/-\\\

Initially, Soryn could not manage to sleep, but after fiddling with the controls to the various electronics in the room, he managed to drift off into a fitful slumber.

He had seen this nightmare, or rather, a memory, several times before. Every time, the same thing happened: running through the woods around District Twelve, with men and women being picked up by the Capitol hovercraft, and Camille following him to as they try to escape certain doom. After he scampers into the tunnel, Camille follows him.

Unlike the other times he had had this dream and his memories, before they can escape, a harpoon strikes her in the leg, dragging into the hovercraft, screaming the entire way up.

With the hovercraft still looming overhead, Valerii appeared before him in a swirl of smoke and ash, staring at Soryn with his cold, uncaring eyes.

Soryn shot up, covered in sweat even though he had kicked off all of the sheets and blankets. Unable to immediately go back to sleep, he walked around the room, pacing back and forth.

Once his heart rate had slowed down, he sat next to the window, watching as the Capitol citizens engage in their revelries in the streets below. So many people living there lives, oblivious or apathetic to the sufferings that took place beyond the comfort and security of their mountain walls.

/-\\\

Soryn had fallen asleep on the floor, which somehow was more comfortable to him than the bed, or at least psychologically relaxing. Mizzie would most likely pitch a fit if she caught him like that.

According to the clock, it was going to be another hour before anyone would be stirring. He walked around for a while, kicking at the various sheets and blankets that he had pulled from the bed. After quick shower, Soryn put on a plum-colored buttoned shirt and black slacks and went downstairs to the dining room, not bothering to put on any shoes.

The only other person present was one of the ever-silent individuals referred to as an Avox. Mizzie had told the two tributes that an Avox was someone who had crossed the Capitol in some form or fashion, and was caught. After being branded a traitor, their tongues were removed before they were "entered" into servitude. That was all they could get out of her before she changed the subject, and neither of them were interested in continuing it.

The avox disappeared briefly before returning with a cart laden with various delicacies. Soryn made a pass, grabbing a plateful of what he presumed were biscuits along with a cup of coffee. The biscuits were sweeter and fluffier than he was expecting, tasting more like cakes or sweet rolls.

After he finished his first plate, Soryn grab a plate of sausage and eggs and wandered into the television room and ate while watching the sun rise of the top of the peaks.

"You look like crap."

Soryn turned around and saw Hunter sprawled out on one of the couches. It looked like he had woken up, walked downstairs, and fell asleep before waking up again.

"I couldn't sleep."

"Rest while you can. You'll need it before you go into the arena."

"I'll try to keep that in mind."

"Excellent! You two are already up" said Mizzie as she came down the stairs with Saerah in tow. "Hurry up with breakfast so we can get you to the first training session."

Hunter grunted his acknowledgement and slunk back into the couch. Breakfast was largely quiet apart from Mizzie's usual gossip, but no one was paying any attention. Once Hunter had gotten himself off the couch, the conversation turned to a more business-like atmosphere.

"What can we expect in the training room?"

"Pretty much anything that can help you once you are out in the field: weapons, ropes for knot-tying, an obstacle course; that sort of stuff." Hunter downed another cup of coffee like he would with a bottle of alcohol. "You'll find out more when you get there"

"Which will happen once you finish your breakfast." Mizzie angrily interjected.

"Don't be in such a hurry. I'm pretty sure most people are just now getting up"

"Well one of us has to be punctual." Mizzie replied with a huff.

"Anything else we should know before we're 'thrown to the wolves'?" asked Soryn

"You shouldn't worry too much; the wolves won't be there to eat. Just remember to practice some other skills, gauge your opponents, and see if anyone is willing to help you."

/-\\\

The training room was just a short elevator ride to the bottom of the training center.  
Like Hunter had said, roughly half of the other tributes were present, mostly those from districts with victors from past games: Two, Three, One, Four, and Ten, along with District Seven's representatives. Some of them turned to face the newcomers, turning away again once their curiosity was sated.

Most of them stood several inches tall than both of them. The male tributes of Districts Two, Four, and Seven were all tall, heavily muscled individuals. None of them looked like there were exceptionally agile, but Soryn did not look like he was very strong either, so he decided to withhold his judgment.

Everyone else seemed to ignore each other's presence over the next hour as the rest of the tributes trickled in. The boy from Four was called Jory, either not realizing or not caring that his voice was echoing across the entire room for the short conversation he was able to drum up with the girl from District One.

By the time all the tributes had finally arrived, they assembled together for a short briefing by one of the trainers. Most of it was rather straight forward. There was to be no fighting amongst the tributes, and any sparring would be handled by the trainers.

Once everyone was released, Soryn went to the plant identification station. After a couple of hours of reviewing with the computer, Saerah stopped by. "You should probably visit some of the other stations."

"Probably." Soryn replied, not even looking away from his reading.

"Look over there." said Saerah, pointing to the girl from District Eleven who was throwing knives at various targets, but failing to lodge a blade into a single mannequin.

After she had exhausted her supply, the Girl from District Two moved in and began hitting targets in rapid succession. While her form was nearly flawless, it was obvious that her intention was to show off.

"I'm going to help her out" said Saerah as she walked over to knife station.

Soryn looked at her with a raised eyebrow, but decided to not say anything and moved on.

While working on knots, he looked at Saerah as she taught the younger tribute who to handle and balance a knife, but it seemed like she could not figure out how to do it herself. Saerah eventually pulled her away from the weapons over to the camouflage station.

"So…" came a voice behind him "What is your take on all of this?"

Soryn turned around and came face to face with the male tribute from District Seven. His complexion reminded Soryn of people from the Seam, and his hazel eyes held a distinct seriousness despite the smile on his face.

"Just looking around" Soryn said with a shrug, leaning on a pillar.

"You can find out quite a bit by just looking."

"Have you found out anything useful through your observations?"

"I am in a room that is largely populated by psychopaths, sociopaths, sadists, and the mentally disturbed. Honestly I think people are finally getting used to the games."

"As much as someone can get used to them." muttered Soryn

"Quite so" the young man quietly agreed, then offered his hand "I'm James Carpenter. My friends call me Jack."

Soryn looked down and then gave Jack's hand one good shake "Soryn Lockwood. I imagine coming from District Seven you have some survival skills already learned."

"I have worked in the lumber yards since I was old enough and big enough to swing an ax properly."

"So you already have some experience with a weapon."

"Yes, but trees have a tendency not to try to move out of the way when I am swinging my ax at them."

"More than most other people get."

"Unless you are from one of the districts that already has a victor."

"Yeah, I saw some of them handling the weapons earlier. Bunch of show-offs."

"Perhaps you could show them a thing or two?"

"What makes you think I know anything?"

Jack pointed at his face. "You have the eyes of a killer. And any skill is useless unless you have practiced it."

"And that makes me an expert?"

"It is more than most people get."

"Why are you even talking to me?"

"Would it not be preferable to have an ally to watch your back while you are resting or to have someone whose skills compliment your own?"

"And what would stop me from stabbing you in the back?"

"Nothing."

"…I'll think about it."

As he walked towards the javelin station, he noticed that the boy from District Two was staring at him, not out of curiosity, but out of suspicion. Trying to ignore his conversation with Jack, he attempted to hit the targets, but had difficulty trying to balance himself while throwing them.

When lunch was announced, he noticed some of the tributes of the districts with victors gathering together. The pair from Three seemed to isolate themselves from everyone else. They had been keeping off to the side of every formation and gathering, probably so they would not have a chance to get close to anyone.

He glanced over at Saerah, who was still working with the girl from Eleven. While an alliance would be beneficial, Soryn thought if they would all be better off with him going alone.


	7. Chapter 7

"_So that little fiasco with the mutts is taken care of?"_

_"Yes."_

_"You know how that looks to everyone else. Could you imagine the Districts finding out about something like that?"_

_"I try not to."_

_"I hope you aren't going overboard."_

_"You know I like having a few options."_

_"Try not to kill them all too fast this time, Enok. It throws the odds into disarray."_

_"I will try to keep that in mind."  
_  
\- Conversation between Icchacus Agrippa and Enok Mars

The last few days had become a blur for Soryn. Spending the entirety of every day training had distracted him from the passage of time. Now it was time for private sessions.

Everyone was gathered in the lower levels of the training center, wearing the same training gear they had before. Only the numbers indicating their respective districts really set them apart. Jack turned around and flashed a grin at him and Saerah.

Soryn had not quite turned them down on forming an alliance. In truth, he was actually coming around to the idea of allying with them, but when Saerah suggested bringing the girl from Eleven, Nylia, Soryn found himself reconsidering again.

Their reasoning was understandable. She was an apothecary's daughter and had helped with administering first aid, but she still had no skills that could help her if it came down to a fight.

As for the others tributes in the room, they seemed to occasionally throw glances from across the room with looks of disdain or boredom. One by one, the tributes walked into their private sessions in turn. After what seemed like an eternity, Soryn's name was finally called and he was eventually ushered in.

It soon became apparent that most of Gamemakers had lost interest and were not paying much attention anymore. A few, however, were watching him with an unusual level of interest. At least he had some spectators, but he would have to do something to get everyone else's attention.

Grabbing a set of throwing knives, he began to climb around, throwing the knives at various targets on the ground below. At first, he was really clumsy, with some of the blades falling short or hitting the targets with the hilt. Once he had grown accustomed to the new knives, he was soon hitting all of his marks.

As he finished the obstacle course, most of the Gamemakers had stopped what they were doing to watch. Dropping to the ground, Soryn picked up one of the blades that had missed, turned to his audience, and threw blade under his arms, nailing a target square in the chest.

The Gamemakers seemed satisfied and gestured for him to leave.

/-\\\

The elevator hummed as it ascended to the twelfth floor of the training center. Letting out a sigh of relief and leaning on the wall, Soryn reviewed the event in his mind and wondered what the Gamemakers would think of it, but then decided to banish it from his mind when the elevator doors opened.

Hunter was sitting on the couch in the television room and noted his arrival

"Where is Mizzie?" asked Soryn, grabbing an apple from the table.

"She's in her room getting beauty sleep. For now, I'm enjoying the relative quiet while she is sleeping."

"No argument there."

Hunter snorted into his drink and changed the subject. "How did your session go?"

"I think it went fine, but it took some effort to get their attention."

"That's what happens when you go last. Just wait 'til they show the scores tonight, then we'll see how well you and your girlfriend did."

"Beg pardon?"

Hunter looked at him with a serious face, and then chuckled, which came across as disturbing instead of reassuring. "Just kidding. You do seem more cagy whenever you're around her, though."

"I wouldn't know."

"Lots of talk going about right now and the scores haven't been released yet. Say what you want about her, but Mizzie has a fairly good idea of what goes on around here. Like we said before, it's those people who will be sending you stuff if you find yourself in a tight spot."

Soryn nodded his agreement and went after the buffet again, stuffing his face until his partner returned.

"I'm back." Saerah announced with an edge of agitation as she strolled into the dining room and plopped into a chair.

"That bad, huh?" said Hunter.

"Yeah, I screwed up pretty bad. And if that wasn't bad enough, I got upstaged by punch."

"What happened after that?"

"I got angry and knocked a table over, then I started yelling at the Gamemakers." she replied, quietly.

Everyone in the room was silent for a moment.

"That won't mess up your score that much as far as I know." Said Hunter, turning back to face the TV.

"I hope you're right."

"Listen kid, if scores were overturned that easily, we would have seen more low scores in the past years. Just wait for the announcement tonight; you have nothing to worry about."

When evening came, everyone gathered around the large television screen. As the program started, the lights bathed the stage, revealing the host as she stood up and greeted the audience.

Calliste Auriel's long, naturally dark hair was dyed a light blue and arranged in a bizarre collection of braids that wrapped around her neck and was decorated with colorful, ornate gems as the trails draped in front of her.

As the host of the Hunger Games, she had a significant presence in the Capitol, and thus had an enormous effect on fashion. This year she was wearing a stiff-looking, deep blue suit with a high collar, a matching knee-length skirt, and a white undershirt with silver wispy tendrils crossing from her left hip and gradually making their way to her opposite shoulder. Her makeup was fairly simplistic compared to the previous year; only the insane amounts of eyeliner and shadowing accompanying the silver flecks in her lashes and on her cheeks contrasting a dark blush the stood out on her pale skin.

"Good evening, citizens of Panem!" She jubilantly proclaimed. "The private sessions are complete and we now we present to you the results."

As she announced each tribute's score, Soryn noted their name and face as they came on screen. Jett, Ruby, Gaius, Nicasia, Philyp, Sonny, Jory, Rayne, Sol, Clarice, Miles, Laryn, Jack, Sway, Deen, Leslie, Barton, Tara, Dag, Annae, Mitch, Nylia.

"Soryn from District Twelve: a nine" Calliste announced, prompting a round of cheers around the room.

"I guess you made an impression." Carlynne said while roughly mussing his hair

"I guess so." Soryn muttered.

"Pay attention!" Mizzie said sharply.

"Saerah Merrick: an eight."

"Wow." Saerah said, surprised at the result "I thought they weren't even paying attention."

"Well done!" Carlynne said, grabbing the girl in a big hug.

"Good job." Soryn congratulated before leaving for his room. As much as he hated it, she apparently was good enough to have a shot at surviving the bloodbath. If it came down to it, he might have to kill her, but there was no way to do that if she had any other presence in his mind besides as an enemy. That was just the way it was. There was no way for him to change that fact unless someone else got to her first.

Either way, he hoped if it came to that that she would not hold it against him.

/-\\\

The next morning brought nothing particularly special with it. After breakfast, he met up with Mizzie for preparing for the interview.

Half of the time was spent getting him used to platform shoes and trying to get him to stop slouching in order to have look taller. After four hours of Mizzie fussing over him and Soryn attempting to at least appear to be compliant, she was at least happy that he could project a pleasant image for just about anyone, which made up for him being difficult to work with.

After lunch, the two tributes switched places with Soryn going to Hunter and Saerah going to Mizzie. From appearances, Saerah's session went well. Hunter still had his near perpetual frown, but Saerah looked like she had relaxed considerably since the previous evening.

As soon as they were alone, Hunter went straight to the point. "Unlike Saerah, you've done pretty well in setting up an image that people like about you, so we'll just work off that. You've been charming so far, and people like that about you, but you'll need something else mixed with it in order to make a lasting impression."

"Like what?" Soryn asked.

"Something that leads them away from your best skills. You're shorter than all but a few of the other tributes and one of the lightest at that. Normally, your stature would cause most to write you off as insignificant, but with your higher score, they'll see you as a threat and come after you at their earliest convenience. This is your opportunity to make them hesitate."

"How?"

"One thing that scares most people more than anything else is knowing nothing. The longer you can keep them guessing, the greater your chances at survival will be."

After an hour they decided on charming since Soryn seemed to do better with it.  
The harder part was trying to get Soryn to lower his voice, but it was a long and painful process with few results to show for the effort. The next morning was devoted to prepping the tributes for their interviews with Calliste.

From after breakfast to the early hours of the evening, Soryn and Saerah were pestered and crowded by their respective teams, scarcely taking time to eat lunch, though Rufus still managed to eat as much as the rest of the prep team on his own in the same timeframe.

When Carlynne came in with the clothes, the collective of fashion mania backed off temporarily before resuming their work with the stylist. Once they had finished, they turned him to face the mirror.

The quality was unmistakable, but in comparison with the lively patterns, colors, and styles that existed in the Capitol, he felt quite simple, but was pleased with the results. An orange-red long-sleeve buttoned shirt, with a dark ash grey waistcoat that matched the suit jacket and slacks he was wearing.

Despite himself, Soryn could not help but smile. After thanking the prep team, they scurried off to wherever they went for the interviews.

Comforted by the silence that solitude brought, he put on his necklace, allowing the oval shaped medallion to hang where a tie normally would be.

"You almost looked like your father the way you were smiling back there." Carlynne said from behind.

Soryn turned to face the stylist. "How did you know my Dad?"

"I fought alongside Damian during the war. He was a good man."

"Can you tell me what happened to him?"

Giving a quick glance around the room, she sat down and sighed. Her face drained itself of emotion as she talked.

"At the end of the war, all of the rebels were gathering for one final attack. After District Thirteen was reduced to toxic ash, we accelerated our plans and moved towards the Capitol, but we were intercepted by enemy forces. We were forced to put down near a forest somewhere in District Ten. Even though we were outnumbered we managed to hold them off for a considerable amount of time, but by that point we had found out that the forward operating base that we were using was wiped out, including all of the personnel that were still there, like the medical staff. Damian was gathering as many soldiers as he could, relieving pinned down units and wiping out enemy squads as he found them. He actually saved my squad after we had gotten surrounded by Capitol."

Carlynne stopped for a breath and licked her lips and pressed on with her story.

"During a tactical retreat, my team got split from the rest and we were captured. Damian and the others continued guerilla tactics for a couple of hours. But when the Capitol got tired of that, they forced us to watch as they burned the whole forest down."

Soryn remembered what it was like being surrounded by walls of fire and quickly pushed the memory from his mind as Carlynne continued.

"I was impressed at your father's determination; pressing on despite the pain he had to be feeling."

"Do you ever wish you could go back?" Soryn asked.

"It's a bit too late to think about what might have been." Carlynne said, standing up. "But yes; constantly."

Spinning around on her toes, she turned to face Soryn, her mournful look replaced with the slight smile she had before." Let's get you onto the stage."

/-\\\

The tributes gathered in the lounge backstage, waiting until they were given additional instruction. In the meantime, they talked amongst themselves, mostly among their allies, if they had any.

Their conversations were brought to a halt when the tributes of District Twelve walked in.

Despite Soryn's attire being rather plain, he cut a distinguished figure, but he was immensely overshadowed by his partner.

She was dressed in a black gown with silvery wisps akin to fog on the waterfront at the break of dawn, the collar stretched high, stopping just short of the tips of her ears to frame her face. The left sleeve was long and flared out at the wrist while the right sleeve was cut short at shoulder and had a plume of black feathers that stretched out horizontally. A black see-through cape decorated gems of various shade of red, orange, and gold went over her right shoulder and trailed down past her heels. Her hair was done up into a bun with some strands flaring out at the top with tendrils of hair dangling down the sides of her face.

With her heels, the height difference between them was much more pronounced.

"The boy looks like he's underdressed." Jett remarked.

"Not like you look any better." Nicasia replied, flicking at the ruffles on the left shoulder of her brown dress. "And I think he's older than you, too."

"He is." Gaius stated.

"Shut up!" Jett growled.

"Well that's a clever comeback." Gaius scoffed.

"Enough with the sarcasm, brick-for-brains." Jett retorted.

"I think that's an insult better suited for Jory." Annae remarked.

"You wanna start something too?"

Gaius grabbed the younger tribute's head and dragged him down, taking care to angle any weak points away from Jett's striking range.

"You already started your argument with me and Nicasia. Don't mess with anyone else until you're finished."

A cold grip brought the scuffling to a halt. "Save it for the arena!" Sonny quietly hissed.

The larger tribute stared at her, still holding Jett down as he squirmed under Gaius' grip.

"Sure thing, princess." Gaius said, letting go of Jett with a shove, throwing Sonny's jewel covered sleeve off in the same motion before security made any moves.

As Jett stood back up, he slicked his blond hair back again and straightened his white suit jacket, his menacing glare going unnoticed by Gaius.

"Why'd you have to stop it?" Philyp asked when his partner returned to his side. "It probably would have made this whole evening much more entertaining."

"Myschel told us to behave ourselves." Sonny said as she readjusted her sleeves. "It would hard to do that if a fight broke out backstage. Why didn't you help? In case you didn't notice, I'm wearing a dress."

"Believe me, I've noticed." Philyp replied with a wink, prompting Sonny to roll her eyes.

/-\\\

Soryn had tried to ignore Saerah the entire way to the interviews, but he still threw glances at her, all of which fell beneath her notice considering what else she had on her mind.

Saerah was still a little awkward in her heels, even if they were nothing like the ones that Mizzie wore.

It still annoyed him that they had given them to her I the first place, since the reason he was wearing platform shoes was to help close the height difference between them.

All of the other tributes were beginning to line up for the interviews and the two of them were soon directed to do likewise. Soryn was to be going last. Either he was going to be a boring end, or a grand finale to the evening's festivities. It was more pressure than he would have liked.

The program started on time, and Ruby was ushered to the stage. Looking at Ruby, some of the tributes wondered how difficult it was to get her ready for her interview. She was tall and muscular, but her face almost made her look masculine.

Jett was very arrogant and tried really hard to make himself sound cool, but he stumbled a couple of times and grew flustered as he tried to recover.

From her initial appearance, Nicasia seemed sweet and polite, but when Soryn looked at her eyes, he could see the murderous intent behind them. Her partner, on the other hand, was powerful looking and very straightforward with his answers, meeting Calliste's eyes with a cold stare. Nothing about him seemed forced or artificial, unless he was very good at hiding it.

The duo from District Three left a different impression. Both lived up to the image set by Craim Londergan: beautiful, charismatic, fierce, but not at the expense of their other skills, if their scores were to be believed. They were clearly well liked among the Capitol audience and already had a line of sponsors.

Rayne was timid and shy, almost to the extent of Nylia. Most of her answers were given by shaking or nodding her head. Jory was the opposite; loud, obnoxious, and acted as pretentious as Jett, though with a notably lower intelligence level.

Apart from the abnormally large boy form District Six, the next five had hardly any distinguishing characteristics; just more scared kids that would be among the first casualties when things got started.

When Jack went up, instead of using his formal speech patterns, he switched to a laid—back personality and accent.

By the time they had gotten to Nylia, Soryn looked at Saerah. Her hands were balled up into fists and her breathing was somewhat heavy as she tried to keep herself calm. A slight smile came to her face when Nylia went up. Her pale blue dress looked rather mature for her, if only marginally.

Unlike Rayne, unlike how she had acted before, Nylia projected a different air about herself. It was as if she had been replaced by an entirely different person. She still struggled with most of the questions because of her stuttering and lisp, but even so, held up well under the scrutiny of the audience.

Her district partner was opposite of her in almost every way possible. Skin, hair, and eyes as dark as his attitude and demeanor, and a cold stare that scarcely broke throughout the entirety of his interview. His near-monotone voice made those three minutes very boring.

After Mitch had left the stage, Saerah opened her hands again, now heavily damp from sweat. Despite her nervousness, she managed to ascend the steps with a regal air. Managing to conjure a smile, she strode across the stage to the chair opposite of Calliste.

"My, my, your stylist did a wonderful job on your dress." said Calliste as they sat down after the clapping died down..

"Thank you." Saerah replied.

"I know this will seem rather forward, but do you have anyone waiting for you back home? A boyfriend, maybe?"

Saerah blushed then shook her head.

"Really? A girl as gorgeous as you? I'm shocked."

Saerah smiled nervously "My family has always taken priority, so I haven't devoted any time in managing a romantic life"

"Has there been anyone you've had a crush on maybe?"

Saerah pondered for a moment then shook her head. "No"

"Not anyone?"

"I think the closest thing I ever got was this one guy, a friend of my family. I haven't seen him in years, so I'm not even sure if he's alive anymore, but if he is, I hope he gets to hear this: I don't blame you, so don't blame yourself."

Her words hit Soryn like a ton of bricks.

The rest of her interview passed by beyond Soryn's awareness, with his mind spiraling downwards as his memories stirred up and threatened to swallow him whole.

Before he could breakdown completely, his name was called, signaling the end of his partner's interview. Recomposing himself, Soryn stepped onto the stage, waving as he approached the host with a big smile on his face.

"You look fantastic this evening." Soryn complimented.

"Thank you." Calliste answered enthusiastically. "You do too."

Soryn sat down in the seat cross-legged and leaned on one side of the chair.

"And a nine. The last person from Twelve to score that high was Maverick Carrow."

Even though it was meant to be a compliment, the very mention of Maverick's name stung like salt poured onto an open wound. With all of his strength, cunning, and endurance, he still fell short of victory. The second to last to die. Another one the kids that numbered among those that had already died.

"I hope I can prove a worthy successor to my predecessor's reputation." Soryn replied, swallowing his anger.

/-\\\

As much as Soryn and Saerah had dreaded it, the interviews were rather anticlimactic; shallow small-talk that really did not go anywhere apart from giving the audience a small insight to the people they were cheering on that would be slaughtering each other.

After a brief nap, sleep eluded Soryn. Pacing did nothing to ease his mind, and the window did not open. After minute of fiddling with the air conditioner controls, Soryn managed to get the temperature to a level more to his liking, but the artificial nature failed to calm his mind.

The wind felt good against his face and allowed him to settle down a little to reel his thoughts back in.

Hearing the door open and close, Soryn looked at who had joined him on the roof. For her visit to the roof, Saerah had wrapped a blanket around herself. She still had traces of makeup, some of which had been smeared from tears.

"Trouble sleeping?" Soryn asked.

"Looks like I'm not the only one." Saerah replied.

"Yeah, well I blame it on the food." Soryn said with a smile.

"You almost seem to be enjoying the prospect of being sent to your death" Saerah said, squinting her eyes at Soryn in curiosity.

Soryn stood up and leaned against the roof supports. "For more than six years, twenty-four kids have come through here, ate, slept, and trained, but each year only one ever comes out. Everyone always remembers the winners, but before we know it, the faces of the losers fade from our memories."

"This is my way of surviving history. No matter what happens out there tomorrow, I want to be remembered. I want to be unforgettable. Don't get me wrong; I'm terrified at the thought of dying out there when we step out tomorrow, but the thought of being forgotten is even scarier."

"That's rather poetic of you." said Saerah. "But why try to play with the crowds?"  
Soryn chuckled "Like I said before: this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. If I am going to die, I don't want to have regrets. I want to enjoy myself"

"Enjoying death; those aren't two words you'd expect to hear together." 

The wind continued to howl against the training center

"One thing I've been trying to figure out about you." said Soryn. "Most of the time you seem quiet or reserved, then you come across as angry or aggressive, like something suddenly pisses you off."

Saerah's eyes start to glisten from tears trying to form at the corners, but she blinked them away and adjusted her sitting position, regaining her composure.

"Around the time my sister died, I tried to fill in the gaps that she left. She used to take me out on her hunting trips, but they always turned into a mess because I would always plead to spare the animals she would kill to put food on the table for us, so she eventually stopped bringing me with her."

"I guess I learned enough to where it didn't take long before I was bringing rabbits to the table, but no matter how much I did it, it always felt like I was fighting myself, dying a little inside every time I went out."

"I don't remember exactly when I snapped, but it was quiet at first, the occasional temper flare up when I got stressed out. When my mother noticed it, I realized what was happening and hid it under a mask of stoicism, trying to keep a happy face so I wouldn't worry my family or get dragged off by the Capitol."

The silence was palpable. There was no way to really follow that with any appropriate response. "There would probably never be a better time to get it over with." Soryn thought.

"That boy you mentioned during your interview; that was me." Soryn said quietly.

Saerah's expression changed from sorrow to confusion as she processed what Soryn had just said. "You mean…?" she began to ask.

"That I was the last person that saw your sister alive?" Sorny finished. "Yes. I was."

Saerah sat in shock. "Why did you wait so long to tell me?"

"I had to get it off my chest at some point; neither of us can afford to be distracted tomorrow."

"That's not the answer I'm looking for."

"Because she died protecting me!"

"A debt you can't repay."Saerah said softly before letting out a short, weak laugh. "You really aren't what I expected for a kid with your reputation."

"I still don't know what to expect of myself."

"Well, don't hang yourself up on it too much. Maybe one of us will die first so we won't have to kill each other." Saerah mused.

"Maybe." Soryn sighed as he stood up to leave.

"You don't sound as confident as you were a moment ago."

"Force of habit. Nothing good ever comes to anyone who gets close. You're all better off staying as far away as possible."

As Soryn walked away, Natalyne's face flashed into his mind. She would give him an earful for what he had just said. No matter how it played out she would be furious, but he could still make her proud of him.

"With that being said," Soryn said, turning back at Saerah. "I got your backs tomorrow."  
Going back to his room, Soryn went to bed. Before sleep could overtake him, he thought he could hear crying.


	8. Chapter 8

"_Well that was interesting."_

_"That's one way of putting it."_

_"Eerily familiar, isn't he?"_

_"Yeah, but only if he were half the size."_

_"That's not the only quality I'm comparing them on."_

_"…Let's just hope doesn't get killed first."  
_  
\- A Conversation between Victors Katriena Mellaghen and Craim Londergan

Soryn woke up early, putting on the clothes laid out for him; simple garments for the ride to the arena. He would be wearing something else for the Games.

Shortly after he was finished getting dressed, he sat at the window, looking out at the city as it woke up until Mizzie came to collect him and Saerah. They were led to the roof and placed on separate hovercraft.

As Soryn grabbed the ladder, his hands froze in place and a man in a white coat approached him with a syringe. Soryn instinctively flinched away.

"Easy there, it is just a tracker" The man said, but Soryn was still resistant.

Taking a deep breath, Soryn allowed himself to relax long enough for the doctor to finish the procedure and looked for Saerah. He could see her already disappearing into her hovercraft and Darius following suit shortly after.

As the ladder pulled him in, he could see Carlynne standing on the landing deck, waiting for the ladder to come back down.

Soryn was seated several seats from the next tribute, all of whom were spread out throughout the passenger bay along with their stylists.

"Having trouble with needles?" Gaius asked with a chuckle. "How did a kid like you ever get a nine?"

"I'm sure you'll find out soon enough" Soryn replied as the restraints fell in front of him.

"Seriously, it's just a needle." Tara said disdainfully.

"Shut up back there!" shouted one of the Peacekeepers.

The rest of the ride was silent, with only the occasional glance being passed between the tributes. When they had landed, tributes disembarked, each flanked by a Peacekeeper on each side as they were escorted to the final stage of preparations.

The catacombs were sparsely populated, with only a few peacekeepers standing guard at regular intervals and some men and women walking around. They stopped at one of the Launch Rooms and gestured him and Carlynne to enter.

"Sleep well?" she asked once the door was closed.

"Could have been better." Soryn replied flatly.

"I guess it can't be helped now." she said, handing him a grey shirt, brown jacket, black pants and boots. "Here is what you will be wearing"

Accepting the clothes with quiet thanks, Soryn went and changed, still keeping the locket around his neck. According to Carlynne, they had taken the locket for inspection, which it passed rather easily. It had to have been when he first arrived, because he could not think of another time he had taken it off.

Neither one of them spoke throughout the duration of the wait, which felt like an eternity. When the intercom finally instructs the tributes to prepare for launch, Soryn nearly jumped.

"Sounds like it's time to go" Carlynne said.

"Yeah." Soryn said, standing up and loosening himself up. "Thanks you, Carlynne. For everything."

"Good luck."

Stepping onto the metal plate, Soryn turned around in time to see the transparent barrier slide into place, his reflection staring back at him.

Carlynne gave him a nod of assurance and the plate began to move up..

Soryn took a deep breath as the launch tube was plunged into darkness, pressing the sense of claustrophobia aside. There was nothing else to distract him from what was to come. Nothing left to tie up. Everything else would be in the arena.

These were not the animals he hunted in District Twelve, nor were they a gang of incompetent fighters that he could surprise. They would all be ready fight. Some of them likely had been training for this moment since the day they first instituted the Games. From this moment on, every choice could be the difference between life and death.

Kill or be killed.

"It almost feels like being home." Soryn thought to himself with a smile.

/-\\\

Day One

As the tributes rose from the ground through the tubes, Iacchus's voice boomed over the loudspeaker.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the seventh annual Hunger Games!"

Largely ignoring the vibrant announcer, most of the tributes began observing the terrain.  
The Cornucopia was situated on top of a large plateau overlooking a vast forest with ravines and rivers running across the landscape. There were three avenues to the plateau, so getting out of the area would be crucial, if he did not want to be boxed in. One of the paths led to a canyon with steep walls, while another led to a series of rocky hills. The last path led to the dense wooded area, which was where everyone would likely run to once the killing began.

Soryn took another look at his competition.

A few were still taking in the scenery while some of the others surveyed the area for the best weapons. Ruby and Jory were acting like hungry dogs, waiting to be let loose upon their prey. Saerah looked like she was preparing to run for it, but reconsidered after she saw something somewhere among the packs.

A screen in the sky displayed the countdown. Soryn quickly formed a plan. From what he had seen in previous years, the mines surrounding the platforms were pressure-activated. Leave your spot too soon and the Capitol would be scraping up your remains. Soryn internalized the clock, keeping track of the beat. Before the last second ticked off, he launched himself off of his platform. Nearly all of the tributes braced themselves for an explosion that never came.

Landing on the ground, Soryn sprinted to the Cornucopia. Everyone else quickly recovered implemented their plans, whether to stand and fight or run off into the wilderness. Reaching the treasure trove of supplies first, Soryn found a medium sized pack next to a nice pair of short swords and several belts of throwing knives.

Securing his choice items, Soryn began to vacate the area. Saerah was already fleeing into the woods, and Nylia was trailing behind her. Everyone who was still present either had a death wish or was planning on helping themselves to the contents of the Cornucopia.

A loud, throaty scream alerted Soryn to an attacker. Turing to face his challenger, he saw Laryn coming at him with a sword that was too heavy for her.

As Soryn drew a knife from his belt, the girl fell to the ground with a spear sticking in her back. Annae stood in the distance, more than ten yards away, grabbing another spear, eyeing her next target.

Before her spear could leave her hand, Jack smashed one of his packs against, knocking her to the ground as he made his exit.

Soryn began to follow but was interrupted by a thrown knife. Ducking back behind the Cornucopia, he caught a glimpse of his attacker before the next knife bounced off the metal surface. Black hair, slight of build, roughly his own height; easily recognized as District Two's female tribute.

Jack took a glance back, narrowly blocking the incoming knife with his backpack.

"Go!" Soryn shouted at Jack, tossing his own knife at the approaching foe to distract her.

Nodding his acknowledgement, Jack immediately took off while Soryn ran in the opposite direction, drawing Nicasia's attention to give Jack more time to escape.  
As he was leaving the plateau, he noticed that his attacker had lost interest and had doubled back to the Cornucopia to join in the slaughter.

"So she's part of the main pack." Soryn thought, but he was not very surprised. While team-ups were not uncommon, for the past three years, some of the tributes, usually from the more wealthy districts, would form a pack in order to take down the rest of the competition before fighting amongst themselves once everyone else was dead.

It made sense, but at the same time it was really idiotic. People formed bonds through adversity, and the Hunger Games presented plenty of it. Unless they were vigilant in keeping themselves emotionally distant, the end results were not going to be pretty for whoever came out the other side.

Thinking about it reminded Soryn of what he was doing with his own alliance. Unless the Gamemakers were okay with multiple victors, he could see the same thing happening to them.

/-\\\

Gaius stood over Rayne's lifeless body. He had opted to take her out instead of risking his ally losing face over slaying his district partner. Leslie, who was laying not too far away nearly bisected, did not have the same justification. He did not know what to say, especially to the two he had just killed, but he wanted to pay some form of respect to the dead before everyone moved on.

The killing in the opening bloodbath had been rather sparse compared to most years. Granted, he was not expecting near total elimination on the first day like the previous year, but it had never been this low.

Jett had complained about the meager number of kills before he saw what had been left behind in the Cornucopia, after which he was just quietly muttering about it and hoping someone would pay attention.

They really did not need to gather up too much since they planned on coming back after the hovercraft cam to recover the dead, but both Ruby and Annae had insisted on bringing several weapons each.

The others were a bit more sensible, picking up preferred weapons and equipment that would be useful for the short-term. Gaius had settled on a nice sword and a combat knife that he kept slung over his back and at the square of his back, respectively, and a water bottle.

After everyone was set to leave, they gathered together in front of him. They had not explicitly chosen him as their leader, but they all followed his lead just the same.  
This was where their alliance became official.

Crossing blades with each other, Gaius led the others in their recitation. Frankly he and the others thought it was rather cheesy; it was really more for the benefit of the audience than anything else.

"We will stand together, lending each other our strength. Until the last of our oppositions falls, this pact shall be upheld."

/-\\\

Having put sufficient distance between himself and the Cornucopia, Soryn's pace had slowed to a brisk hike.

The terrain reminded him of the woods around District Twelve and navigating them was rather easy. Once he was convinced he had put enough distance between him and the Cornucopia, Soryn unslung his pack. Basic survival gear mostly, there was also a small sleeping bag. It was not much, but it would keeping him from completely freezing after dark. Two water bottles, both full and accompanied with purifying tablets. A couple of energy bars, some beef jerky, and some fire-starters.

Picking from the Cornucopia had its advantages. From what he could recall from watching the years before, most of the better stuff was kept in the center and the quality went down the further away it was.

In the distance, he could hear the cannon going off, over and over until it had gone off five times. Soryn paused from taking inventory. In all of the years before, the number killed in the opening bloodbath was usually in the double digits. Granted, there were some high scores, and between him, Jack, and the two from Three.

It probably threw some of them off guard or forced them to be more exclusive in picking out their targets. Everyone else must have run off as soon as they could.

Soryn zipped up his pack, arranged his equipment to his liking, and continued his trek, keeping an eye out for any other tributes. Soryn sniffed the air. The forest had become exceptionally quiet.

Normally it was a sign that a hovercraft was approaching, but since it been more than an hour since the cannons had fired, it likely meant that he was being followed by someone who had taken a shower that morning.

Changing his course, Soryn moved closer to the thicker vegetation and pulled out his swords and began hacking at the tall grass, listening for the slightest disturbances. He quickly ruled out Saerah and Jack; neither of them would be foolish enough to approach in such a manner, and most of the main pack was still probably close to the Cornucopia. That left Philyp and Sonny: two of the highest scoring tributes. While the score could mean anything, he was not going to take any chances.

At the sound of a twig snapping, Soryn turned around with swords at the ready and ducked to the side. Even though he had been anticipating the ambush, Soryn narrowly sidestepped Philyp's attack.

A look of surprise briefly passed over the other tribute's face as his sword hit the dirt.

Taking advantage of the momentary lapse of aggression, Soryn lashed out, nearly gouging Philyp's cheek open.

Regaining his composure, Philyp whirled to motion, dodging the edges of Soryn's blades. He was as fast Soryn, but substantially stronger and heavier, allowing him to drive Soryn backwards. Soryn began glancing around, looking for Philyp's partner. Before he completed his train of thought, Sonny jumped out from her hiding spot, nearly catching Soryn's throat with her ax.

Dipping below her blade, Soryn swept her legs out from underneath her. With Philyp coming at him again, Soryn leapt onto the nearest tree, ascending with unnatural swiftness into the branches, far out of reach of his attackers.

Stopping as soon as he was sure he had left the pair behind him he could feel the adrenaline rushing. The feeling was exhilarating, but he knew he had a close call. If he had not surprised them the way he did, he would not have gotten away. Taking them head on would suicidal in their current condition. They would be prepared for him next time

Running would have to work in the meantime.

Night came swiftly and a cool breeze made a chill go up Soryn's spine, vaguely reminding him of when he first met Lloyd and Natalyne.

They were likely in the living room watching the Games right now, hoping that he would survive. He had done well so far, but things were just getting started.

Finding a suitable hiding place where he could stay the night, he wriggled into a crevice in the rock face concealed by trees and wrapped himself in the sleeping bag.

Unless the Gamemakers decided to send the mutt in early or one of the tributes possessed a supernatural tracking ability, he would be relatively safe for the time being.  
At the beginning of the Capitol's anthem, the nightly announcement of the day's fallen began.

Rayne of District Four, Laryn of District Six, Leslie and Deen of District Eight, and Tara of District Nine.

None of them had particular scores in the first place, but Soryn had expected at least one of them to have hidden their true strength.

With both of their tributes already eliminated, District Eight was out of the running this year. Laryn's incompetence in combat was all too apparent, Rayne was hardly surprising, and he had not seen enough of Tara to have properly gauged her strength.

It was not like he could figure that out now.


	9. Chapter 9

_"Things have been quiet. No one is even in remote danger yet, and those closest to each other are moving off."_

_"It hasn't been more than twenty-four hours since the Bloodbath."_

_"With only five deaths."_

_"What do you think, sir? Should we intervene?"_

_*Silence*_

_"Give them more time. Danger will find them soon enough."_

\- Conversation between Head Gamemaker Enok Mars and his staff

Day Two

Dag warmed his hands against the fire he had created. It was one of his proudest accomplishments during training, getting a fire going.

It would be dawn soon, and it would not be long before the other tributes came to find the smoke.

"Just a little longer." He thought to himself.

Interrupting his blissful enjoyment of the fire, a pair of hands gripped around his head and twisted, resounding with a sickening snap.

The cannon echoed in the distance as it heralded the tribute's demise.  
Philyp stooped over his fresh kill, rifling through the boys gear for supplies.

"You know, it doesn't seem right killing him like that." He said, not caring whether anyone heard him or not. "It would have felt better if he had fought."

Sonny ignored his comments, knowing that Philyp would never stop talking if she paid him any mind.

It was one of the many things that made her wonder how he was so popular with the girls back home.

However, it was a good sign that there was no immediate danger. Philyp had an impeccable extra sense when it came to detecting danger and in those situations he would be so quiet and still it almost unnerved her.

When the hovercraft came to retrieve the corpse, scattering ashes from the campfire, the duo fled into the woods once more.

They were not the only hunters that would be on the prowl.

/-\\\

Barton looked up from his backpack at the sound of the cannon.  
Judging from where the hovercraft went, the victim had set up a fire that had drawn other tributes to them.

Whether it was an intentional trap that was successful or a naïve fool suffering their stupidity, he could not tell.

"Either way, someone's an idiot." Barton quietly muttered.

Realizing his error, he slapped his free hand over his mouth. He could not tell if there was anyone else in the woods, but neither was he going to do anything that would alert others to his presence.

A rustling coming from behind him nearly made him jump out of his skin. Finding the nearest hiding spot that afforded him some visibility, Barton nervously tried to ascertain the identity of the intruder

The boy was clumsy with his footsteps. Probably because he was far too large for a boy of his age. But clumsy as he was, he was moving steadily towards Barton, sniffing the air like a dog.

Zipping up the pack as quietly as he could, Barton readied himself to run. He would be leaving plenty of creature comforts that the bag contained, but he would not have them anyways if he got himself killed.

The boy was moving slowly, meandering around the larger clearings and peeking under rocks and roots. The anticipation was driving Barton insane.

He had a sword, but the boy had simple mass on his side, and he was not the greatest swordsman around, either. Running was probably his best option, but only if hiding failed.

As Barton slipped from his hiding spot, Miles looked around, spotting his fellow tribute. Rather than immediately begin his chase, Miles stared Barton down, tilting his head to the side with a curious expression.

"Maybe he's too stupid to realize what he's supposed to do." Barton thought.

Those hopes were dashed as Miles made a screeching noise and charged.

His running was awkward, but somehow he avoided tripping over the roots and underbrush that covered the ground.

Barton ran with his sword slung over his back. There was no point in possibly stabbing himself by running with it out of its sheathe.

Breaking into a clearing, Barton nearly ran over the edge of a cliff. A river thundered down below, splashing white crest water against the walls of the ravine.

Drawing his sword, Barton turned around just in time to get in position to face Miles, slashing at the larger tribute, but hitting an outstretched arm instead.

The boy withdrew from the source of pain and lashed out, knocking Barton backwards and cutting himself again.

On the ground, Barton scrambled for his weapon, but the larger boy was on top of him in an instant, clawing at him.

Kicking at his opponent with both legs, Barton shoved himself away and jumped to his feet, nearly falling over the edge while Miles wondered how he had disappeared in front of him.

As he put as much distance between Miles and himself, Barton mentally cursed at himself. While he managed to escape Miles' grasp, his sword was now at the bottom of the ravine.

Following silently in the canopy of trees above, Soryn watched the other tributes with interest.

/-\\\

The dew slowly disappeared from the grass around the Cornucopia while Gaius and the rest of his allies gathered the equipment scattered around the field to take inventory.  
They had returned earlier that morning without any success in their hunting, to the displeasure of some.

It was still fairly early in the Games. The Gamemakers would probably wait another day before concocting and implementing a scheme to force a confrontation.

Annae was twirling around one of the spears she had picked up. She was still furious that she had been so easily blindsided in an open field be someone so large. All efforts to get her to conserve her energy were rendered moot by her persistence, so they left her alone while they moved on to other things.

Unsurprisingly, there was an abundance of supplies to be had. Since they had found a source of water close by, as well as the river down below, they had voted on setting up camp near the large metal structure.

The only argument against the idea was that if the spring they had found were to be compromised, their only known alternative at the time would be a narrow path down into the ravine to the river.

Gaius kept a wary eye to the treeline. If he had seen correctly, Jack had made off with a pack containing a bow and a quiver full of arrows, which probably meant that someone he was working with was capable of using it. Why else would he have gone through so much trouble to get it?

"Now that we've settled in," Gaius addressed his assembled allies. "We need to start whittling down our competition in earnest. Well start in teams of two. Jory and I will stay here while the rest of you start hunting. Nicasia and Jett will be on one team; Ruby and Annae will make up the other. Any questions?"

Jory almost immediately spoke up. "Why are you keeping me away from the fighting?"

"I'm just keeping things fluid."

Jory's dumb expression made it clear that he could not understand what they were doing. Granted, he had not said it in the clearest fashion in the first place.

Gaius swallowed his annoyance and tried to explain it in as few words as he could manage.

"We'll be switching around the people who go out hunting, and who they go hunting with. The ones we should keep an eye out for are the pair from District Three, Jack, and Soryn. If you spot them, don't pick a fight unless you have most of us there to back up. The pair should be approached cautiously until we can figure their strengths out. Jack, or at least someone he's working with, will have a bow, so don't leave yourself out in the open unless you have to."

"What about Soryn?"

"Treat him like Philyp and Sonny. There's something about him that I can't quite put a finger on, so don't go charging in."

"I'm still curious as to why we're splitting up in the first place." Jett said.

"If you had paid any attention during the training sessions you'd already know." Nicasia retorted.

"We're changing so much so anybody observing from the distance won't be able to make any predictions from merely watching us." Gaius explained. "Our numbers when we go out, who stays behind, the time we spend away; they won't be able to figure that out unless they spend a lot of time hiding close by. Now get some rest; you're taking guard shift in a few hours."

/-\\\

Day Three

Soryn set his bait of abandoned canteens.

He felt like there should have been something wrong with him for doing something like luring in other people like this, but the Games were already something abhorrent, and he doubted that he, or anyone else he teamed up with, would be shown any mercy.

Best to do it quick and clean.

Barton and Miles had been playing cat and mouse for most of the night, and since they had left an ample trail to follow, Soryn decided to find a place to hide and sleep until morning.

Last night's death toll only had one casualty: Dag from District Ten. That would keep the Gamemakers from doing anything drastic for the time being. It also meant that neither Barton nor Miles had been killed.

He had only caught sight of the pair once since this morning. Barton had been doing an excellent job of slipping out of sight, but Miles was tenacious. Every time Barton disappeared from view, Miles would be on him again in hardly anytime at all and the time between when they lost sight of each other and when Miles found him again was getting shorter.

"Tenacity and survival instincts are hardly attributes that could be tested for." Soryn thought.

The morning calm and birdsongs were disrupted when Barton stumbled into the clearing.  
The boy looked exhausted and barely awake as he slumped against a tree, conveniently within view of the trap.

Unsurprisingly, Barton was fully awake at the sight of relief and cautiously approached the trap.

Soryn watched carefully. For all he knew, this coincidence was a ruse to draw him from hiding, but he would not pass up the chance to eliminate a competitor if the opportunity arose.

The forest stilled, not entirely unlike when a hovercraft approached, but unlike the fear and foreboding, this sensation was that of anticipation. Carrion birds waiting for carnage that they would be denied.

Slightly out of Soryn's view, Miles emerged from the foliage, as bedraggled as his quarry. He had some bruises and scratched, but those injuries were promptly ignored when he spotted the other tribute.

Making a noise that was something between a roar and a screech, Miles charged, kicking up dirt and tearing up grass.

Forgetting his weariness and thirst, Barton chucked one of the canteens at Miles' head, stunning the larger boy and momentarily sending him stumbling in a daze. The lapse lasted long enough for Barton to attempt to retreat again. What he did not notice until he was stumbling over his feet was that the vines around the canteens had been tied into a net.

While he struggled to untangle himself, he looked around for more enemies. By the time he had managed to free himself, Miles had recovered and was on top of him, punching, clawing, and screeching at the top of his lungs.

Barton managed to land a few good punches, but none were effective enough to force Miles to withdraw. Eventually, he curled up into a ball in an attempt to protect himself from Miles' furious barrage.

When the cannon heralded Barton's demise over the din, Miles cocked his head, seemingly unaware of his actions as he brought his knees to his chest and leaned forward, making clucking noises.

The boy never felt the blades cut into the back of his neck when Soryn fell on top of him.  
As the cannon sounded for the second casualty, Soryn checked both tributes for supplies, but as he had expected, neither tribute had snagged any during the Bloodbath.

Recovering the canteens, Soryn dashed off into the woods with a flock of birds passing overhead to announce the approach of a hovercraft.

The other tributes would note the hovercrafts route, and Soryn planned to be as far away as he could before they could investigate.

/-\\\

Saerah looked across the woods from her perch as she tried to ascertain the location of the scene of battle.

Passing overhead, the grey hull of a hovercraft absorbed the sunlight as it retrieved the most recent victims of those out hunting.

Climbing down, she returned to her hiding place where Jack and Nylia were sorting what they had found in their backpacks. Thanks to Jack, they were able to take several large bags fairly close to the center before they fled the fighting.

"Where was the fight?" Jack asked.

"Southeast from here." Saerah replied. "I'd say maybe a mile and a half away."

"I-i-is S-s-s-s-orym 'till coming?" Nylia stuttered. Saerah was confused how the girl was surprisingly eloquent during the interview, but in a more relaxed setting struggled with basic conversation.

"Soryn in still alive." Jack said, correcting and answering her.

"We'll know for sure this evening." said Saerah.

"You should already know. He did not strike me as the type to go down easily."

Saerah sighed and blew her bangs from her face. "Well, until he decides to show up: what do we have?"

"T-t-there's the b-bow and jarky that we pulled out two d-days ago."

"There are also some containers of medicine and assorted weapons and basic survival gear."

"Can I have more specifics?"

"I do not even know what most of this is, so no, I cannot give you any specifics."

"Wonderful."

"How are things out there right now?"

"The weather is clear for now. I'd suggest relocating and meet up with Soryn later."

Day Four

Soryn nestled into his cave to keep himself out of the rain, using the rain poncho to help keep the wind and rain out.

The rain had unexpectedly come down in droves. In the previous years, Soryn hypothesized that the Gamemakers had a limited control over the weather, but experiencing it firsthand had proven problematic.

On the other hand, the driving rain would keep everyone in whatever shelter they could muster until it passed, unless they were utterly insane or retarded. The terrain was hazardous enough without being completely saturated in moisture, and with his own senses limited to an uncomfortably short range, he struggled to imagine how anyone else would manage in those conditions.

It gave him plenty of time to recover his strength, though he had yet to put much strain on it in the first place, but resting was far from his mind.

He had to figure out how to locate Saerah and the others. They had worked out how to signal each other during the training times, but most of those ideas were limited to short range, and everything else would just as likely attract other tributes as the intended recipients.

Hopefully, if they accidently ran into each other they would not kill each other by mistake.

Taking a quick inventory, he was not short on any supplies. And with rain being the most consistently clean source of water, he was set for the time being.

Then, as if someone had turned off a faucet, the rain stopped.

Soryn let the poncho dry for a bit then packed and grabbed his equipment to relocate before the other tributes could resume their hunts.

/-\\\

Nicasia sniffed the air suspiciously. It did not help much, but the habit she had picked up from the mines was not so easily done away with. The rain had washed away any scents that would have been detectable in the first place.

Jett and Annae followed her navigation, warily eyeing the woods for signs of their opposition's movements.

They had found discarded supplies shortly after the rain had stopped, and judging by the quality of the items, they were from someone who had gotten fairly close to the Cornucopia during the Bloodbath.

Scooping up their find, they continued at a more cautioned pace, speaking in low whispers, if they spoke at all.

"Who would leave knives just laying around? Annae asked.

"An idiot." Jett quietly cackled.

"Or someone who clearly doesn't need it." Nicasia countered.

"At any rate, those two from District Three are the most likely culprits, but it could be that big guy from Seven, or the brat from Twelve. They gave you two a bit of trouble didn't they? And they got into the Cornucopia, too."

"Save your speculation for when we get back to camp." Nicasia hissed.

"Can't handle being criticized?" Jett said, smugly.

"I like the idea of living. And it's hard to pay attention when your hissing is messing with my train of thought."

Annae clenched the right side of her jaw, regretting having ask the question in the first place.

Gaius and Nicasia had the best handle on the Games and nearly everyone followed their lead without question.

When Annae thought about it, she was really only on par with Ruby in terms of general usefulness, but that still put her leagues above the others.

Jory and Jett were somewhat good at fighting, but not much else. It was only a matter of time before Ruby snapped and tried to tear their heads off.

Their arrival at camp that evening was met with a roaring fire and some packaged food from the Cornucopia. It was no secret that they had set up camp on top of the plateau, and the other tributes would be keeping at a safe distance for as long as possible.

"How was your hunting?" Gaius asked, not looking up from sliding knife against a whetting stone he had found.

"Found some discarded weapons;" Nicasia replied, dropping the bag off with the rest of the equipment. "Nothing special."

"I take it that their previous owner's trail was washed out."

"More than your clothes on laundry day."

Gaius paused and nodded while the others tried to understand what that meant.  
As expected, no new names and faces were played against the sky.

"Only eight deaths so far. None of which were today." Ruby said to no one in particular.

"Things have been going rather slow this year, haven't they?" Jett laughed

Gaius threw the knife he had been sharpening and glared at Jett.

"The moment we think that everything fits a pattern, we limit our line of thinking and blind ourselves to the possibility that things can change. The only thing that is predictable is that there is nothing that is predictable. If something seems suspicious, assume it's a trap and approach with caution, otherwise you might as well slit your own throat. I have little time for weaklings, and even less for fools."

Jett's eyes had widened in fear. Gaius had barely raised his voice above a whisper, but it was far more terrifying to hear the low rumble of his voice than to weather one of Ruby's loud outbursts.

Settling down for the night, she caught glimpse of Gaius standing watch, proud and vigilant. But for all of those qualities that made him an incredible competitor in the Games, she could tell that beneath his calm demeanor was a storm that was barely kept in check, and was she was far more worried about pissing him off than anyone else.


	10. Chapter 10

"_The competition is getting more intense. Should I take this as successful proof-of-concept?"_

_"More or less."_

_"Is there a problem that you think we should be considering?"_

_"We need to be able to drag this on for longer."_

_"Of course, Mars. We just need to make sure all of the elements are squarely under our influence from now on."_

_"...How long?"_

_"Afterwards. Regardless of the outcome, weeds must be removed for the garden to survive."  
_  
\- Conversation between Iacchus Agrippa and Enok Mars

Day Five

Clarice shivered next to Sol against the night breeze.

It had been almost six days since the Games began. They had managed to snag some supplies before making a run for it, but those supplies were dwindling and did not have anything with which to help them combat the cold.

The weather had proven to be more of a wildly unpredictable factor, with precipitation, temperatures, and humidity swinging to various extremes, often at the worst possible moment.

"Why didn't we grab a sleeping bag?" was the question she had asked her partner after they had escaped the bloodbath.

"This is a jungle; it's going to be mostly wet and warm." Was his answer.

It was kind of stupid in the long run. Their training scores made it highly improbable that they would receive any supplies to alleviate their situation.

Between the cold and the uncomfortable surface they were on, Clarice could not get herself to fall asleep, so she helped keep watch while Sol. It was impressive that he was able to sleep so soundly.

Clarice's eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and the moon was out enough to offer additional illumination, but also worried her that someone might be able to see them as well.

The forest seemed more alive at night. Clarice was sure that it was the exhaustion getting her, but every tree seemed to answer against the night wind.

A small furry animal hopped out of a collection of bushes, continuing to scamper back off out of sight once more without sniffing the air.

Clarice looked around. Why would the critter by running around like that? She had seen a number of those animals before, and they were much slower and less direct then this one had been. Sol was the one who had read up on various flora and fauna during the training session.

Giving a quick nudge to her partner, Sol woke up, groggily rolling over while wiping his eyes.

"Wake up, Sol!" she whispered, rapping her knuckles against his back, shocking him enough to look at her.

"What is it?" Sol yawned.

"What was that thing that we kept on seeing last night?"

"The rabbit?"

"Yeah, that. One just ran past us."

"Rabbits don't run, they hop." Sol groggily said.

"Well I don't like that, so we should probably move."

The clouds moved, illuminating the forest more, but giving it a ghastly glow that made seeing more of a challenge.

No sooner had she helped Sol get to his feet, he gave out a yelp and crumpled to the ground with a knife in his back.

The next knife passed her head, splitting her right ear, coinciding with the cannon announcing Sol's demise.

Moving from their hiding place, Nicasia and Jett moved to finish off Clarice while she was still stunned. With one last look at her friend, Clarice ran for it.

"Give me that!" Jett said, grabbing one of Nicasia's knives and throwing it at the fleeing tribute.

Clarice felt a sting in her back as the knife sank into her back, but continued running.  
Jett loudly cursed and tried to pursue her through the trees with Nicasia following closely behind.

Whimpering at the blade jiggling in her back, Clarice kept stopping to see if her pursuers were still chasing her. The pain form the knife lodged into her back made running painful, but adrenaline kept her from thinking about it too much.

As her vision began to blur, she began to stumble more over the roots. In the instances she fell to her knees, she wiped some of the blood that was starting to soak through her clothes.

"Well, this is a stroke of luck." A voice said from overhead.

As Clarice looked up to see who was talking, a blur landed in front of her. Despite not feeling the slash across her chest, she realized that it was her own blood spurting in front of her eyes as her vision cleared.

She could see Sonny's cold, fierce glare meeting her eyes as she threw her bag over her shoulder and buried her axe into Clarice's left shoulder near the base of her neck.  
While the tribute fell to the ground, Sonny pulled the knife free from her back.

"That was a bit harsh, don't you think?" Philyp chuckled as he watched overhead.

"It's not like you wouldn't have done the same." She replied.

"Do you really need that knife?"

"Nah." She answered, throwing the knife into the ground.

/-\\\

Day Six

With cannon going off once more, Nicasia and Jett looked to the skies to see where the hovercraft went after it finished up retrieving the other casualty.

Following as quickly as they could, the duo caught sight of Clarice being brought into its cargo bay.

"Where's her bag?" Nicasia wondered out loud.

"Somebody stole my kill!" Jet screamed, discovering the bloodied knife that Sonny had left behind.

Yelling a string of profanity, though nearly all of it was incomprehensible due to him meshing his words in fury, he threw the knife at the hovercraft as it flew away, disappearing into the forest in a gracefully spinning arc.

"If it wasn't for the fact that I could get more knives, I would be very upset." Nicasia said, glaring at Jett while his tirade continued, oblivious to nearly anything else.

"Shut up, Jett!" Nicasia growled, smacking her associate across the back of the head. "If they were close enough to steal your kill, then they're probably close enough to hear you screaming your head off."

"Let them come. I'll take them both on."

"Yeah, and get yourself killed. Come on, let's head back; we're done here anyways."

/-\\\

Day Eight

Saerah crept along a deer trail she had found.

Hunting had been rather spare for several days, but she still hoping to find something other than lizards.

Most of the deaths were happening a ways away from their encampment, but the last two casualties had occurred around midnight a couple of days before. It would not be long before the Gamemakers got themselves involved…somehow.

For the first few games, they had gone by so fast that there was not enough time for anyone to be bored. The fourth year dragged on much longer and eventually the island chain that made up the arena was flooded, driving the tributes to high ground. But since no one had suspected something like that occurring, only four managed to not drown, and two of those did not last long after losing their supplies.

The arena for the fifth year had been practically a wasteland and the infrequent bird attacking tributes was regarded as suspicious by many, and by the sixth year, pretty much everyone was convinced that the Gamemakers had near full control of the arena and would gladly use it if they found necessary or amusing.

Her pondering was cut short by the sound of a flock of birds taking flight from…behind. She nocked an arrow and slowed her pace to a crawl, eyeing the lengthening shadows nervously.

Creeping out from behind tree in front of her, a wolf-like creature stepped into the path, and with a short howl, a trio similar creatures emerged from brush and began to circle her.

Deciding to strike first, Saerah dropped the first two with one arrow apiece. The third one presented more of a challenge, grabbing at her bow and nearly dragging her to the ground while she held onto it and swung it into a tree. While she was stabbing it with a knife, the fourth lunged at her back.

Turning at the sound a loud thump, she saw Soryn pinning the fourth creature to a tree with a short-sword.

"I'm surprised that Jack allowed you to go off by yourself." Soryn said, pulling the sword free with a crunch, letting the carcass fall to the ground.

Saerah smirked and accepted his hand to help herself up. "Jack isn't that light on his feet, and Nylia wouldn't have been able to keep up with me, so we decided it would be best if I went alone."

"Hm, still doesn't sound like a good idea in my opinion."

"That coming from a guy who spent the last week by himself."

Soryn scrunched his face and squatted down to inspect the dead animals. "So what do we have here?"

"Sort of looks like a wolf, but it has too many teeth, and it's way too big for any wolf I've heard of. It's probably a mutt."

"You've seen many mutts?"

"No, but I heard plenty of stories from the older people about how they would wander around before the fences went up."

"Well, the rest of our talk can wait until we regroup. Where are the others?"

"A ways from here. I'll take you to them."

Even with his years of working alone, the forest still felt less ominous with someone to watch his back.

During the hike, they checked on the traps that Saerah had set up, finding a few rabbits still squirming. After a quick cleaning, they headed to camp before the light disappeared over the horizon.

A tarp hanging in the entrance and a flashlight illuminating the cave's interior.

"How were things out there, Saerah?" Jack asked.

"Not bad." She answered. "Snagged some rabbits, but more importantly, I found this in the woods."

"How's it going?" Soryn said with a smug grin.

"S-s-Soryn!" Nylia exclaimed, standing up.

"I take it you are in good health?" Jack asked.

"Perfectly fine." Soryn replied, and turned to Saerah. "And really? 'Found in the woods?' Is that what you call me saving your life?"

"Whatever." Saerah said dismissively. "Now, what was it you were wanting to talk about with the rest of us?"

"Have you been keeping track of the deaths so far?"

"Yeah." Saerah replied somberly.

"There are fourteen tributes left. Four of whom are in this cave." Jack stated.

Soryn sat down on the floor of the cave, sliding his pack into a corner. "Philyp and Sonny are working together. And pretty much every tribute hailing from a district with a victor laid claim to the Cornucopia, and none of them are dead yet."

"Any sight of my district partner?" Jack asked.

Soryn thought for a moment, trying to recall her face. "Can't say that I have. In fact, I've hardly seen anyone at all since day one."

"That accounts for most of us." Saerah asked. "Who's the other tribute?"

"M-m-m-Mitch." Nylia answered.

"Your district partner." Jack commented. "That makes for only two that are working alone at this juncture."

"It also means that they're going to be pitting the various teams against each other soon." Saerah added.

"And none of us are ready for a direct confrontation with the other tributes yet." said Soryn. "We need to level the field."

"How are going to do that?" "Saerah asked.

"…Got anything flammable?"

/-\\\

Day Ten

Annae leaned against the supply stack while keeping watch over the Career camp. Gaius, Ruby, and Jory had left on a hunting trip earlier that afternoon, but had yet to return. Meanwhile, Nicasia and Jett were snoring away in their sleeping bags while Annae had guard duty.

After nearly dozing off, she walked around the campsite. Her thoughts drifted to District Ten. The smell was not exactly pleasant, but she still yearned to be back home.  
The sound of tree branches rustling caught her attention, snapping her back into reality. She readied her spear in anticipation of a confrontation.

A pair of large arms wrapped around her neck, cutting off her air until she slumped to the ground unconscious.

"Remind me why we are not killing her" Sonny said as she emerged from the concealment of the forest.

"Because I can barely see in this type of lighting, and I would prefer not to be blindsided."

"Is it just that, or do you just want everyone to see your mug while you're fighting her?"  
Philyp smiled as he helped himself to the Careers' stash of weapons alongside his partner.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're an egotistical son-of-a—"

"Less talking, more stealing." Philyp whispered, shoving his free hand in front of her mouth."

As they finished picking out what they wanted, they heard a clamoring in the distance, getting closer.

"Let's give these weapons a quick test run." Philyp said with a grin.

/-\\\

"I said I was sorry!" Jory said, his tone failing to reflect an ounce of sincerity.

Gaius paused to glare at his ally before turning back to the trail they had set up.

"I don't see what the big de—" Jory began.

"You said you knew where we were!" Ruby shouted. "We gave you one chance to prove that you weren't a waste of oxygen, and now we've wasted an entire day."

"So? It's not like we've run into anyone lately."

"Well, maybe we might've found something if we hadn't let someone who replaced their brain with another muscle."

"Shush!" Gaius hissed. "Something doesn't seem right."

Gaius whispered narrowing his eyes as he surveyed the camp. Nicasia's nose was practically inhuman when it came to sniffing out trouble. Gaius was not sure if it was a result of her being a "canary" back in District Two or an extra sense, but in any case, he regretted not having her there at that moment.

The field around the Cornucopia was practically empty. Jett and Nicasia looked to be undisturbed under the shelter the metal structure provided, but Annae was nowhere in sight even though she should have been guarding the weapons and supplies.

"Check the Cornucopia and wake the others." Gaius said quietly.

Approaching the supply pavilion, he drew his sword eyed the crates suspiciously for any tampering.

Upon finding Annae laying face down, Gaius looked back at the Cornucopia in time to see Philyp swinging his newly acquired sword at him.

"Nice reflexes." Philyp chuckled.

Pitted against a larger, stronger adversary, Philyp went on defensive, leading Gaius in circles to try and wear him down, nearly being caught from behind by Nicasia. Now having to face two opponents, he changed tactics.

Locking swords with Gaius, he waited until Nicasia came at him again, then slid both of their blades apart, gashing Nicasia's forehead in the process. As she instinctively reached for her injury, Philyp kicked her into the supplies, bracing just in time to block Gaius' next strike.

Backing to the supply stack, Philyp rolled a bin at Gaius legs as he lunged at him, causing him to stumble forward. Coming down for a finishing blow, Annae intercepted it, knocked Philyp's sword out of his hands, and swept his legs out from under him.

As he rolled backwards to get back to his feet, Annae lunged at him. Sidestepping her spear thrust, he dislocated her shoulder and threw her out of the way and ducked under Gaius' sword swing.

Taking advantage of Gaius' heavy swing, Philyp moved to grab his arm, but instead caught his elbow before it connected with his face.

Annae had already gotten up again as was stabbing at Philyp with her right arm still flopping at her side. Deflecting the spear with one hand, he grabbed her arm. Pulling his knife out while he dragged her forward, he sliced the underside of Annae's left arm as she tried to block, and swung her to the ground in front of Gaius, giving him enough time to retrieve his own sword.

As much as Philyp fancied himself a swordsman, Gaius was more than a match when it came to brute strength and was fast enough that there were not many openings to exploit without risking his life in the process.

Dropping to the ground, Philyp grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it at Gaius' eyes.

Narrowly deflecting a thrown knife, Gaius recoiled and blinked the grime away. By then, Philyp had already made a break for safety.

/-\\\

Using her weapon to deflect Ruby's battle-axe, Sonny spun around, using her opponent's weapon against her ally, taking advantage of Ruby's momentum to elbow her in the stomach.

Jory's next swing barely missed his ally's head as she doubled over and dropped to her knees, but his efforts distracted Sonny from finishing her off as she danced around sword, leaving her back turned towards Jett, who tried to seize the perceived opening in Sonny's defenses and lunged.

Having over-extended himself, Sonny drove her knee into the other tribute's stomach hard enough to lift him off the ground.

While Sonny kicked Jett out of the way, Ruby jumped back to her feet and rushed at Sonny with a spear.

"Time to go!" shouted Philyp as he ran for the tree line.

Sidestepping the spear-thrust, Sonny pulled Ruby forward, driving her spear into Jory's leg before punching Ruby and cracking her nose and threw her on top of her ally.

"Later, losers." Sonny said as she left the two of them to untangle themselves.  
The two ran for the tree line where they had come from with Gaius and Ruby in close pursuit. Even though Gaius and Ruby had familiarized themselves with the terrain, their quarry kept a considerable lead.

"Nice plan, genius!" Sonny shouted at her partner. "I thought you wanted to let everyone see you fight?"

"I know. That's why we're running." Philyp replied with a grin. "And now it's time for jumping and swimming."

"I just want you to know that I hate you."

"You keep telling yourself that."

Without a moment of hesitation, the pair jumped over the edge.

"No!" said Gaius, sliding to a stop and putting his arm in front of his ally. Ruby glared at him as Nicasia caught up with them.

"We don't know where the river goes, idiot." Gaius said, pushing Ruby back as she tried to move forward. "It would take hours to get back here if we lose their trail, and I am not about to leave our supplies in the hands of the other three, especially in their current condition."

"Fine!" Ruby growled as she turned back to camp.

Nicasia passed a glance and followed her, leaving Gaius standing alone, watching as Philyp and Sonny disappeared into the night.


	11. Chapter 11

"_Quite the impressive showdown."_

_"It's a shame there weren't any deaths."_

_"That sort of thing would disappoint you."_

_"This is a business, Calliste. Besides, with the injuries some of those kids suffered, they won't be long."_

_"And if they last longer than you think?"_

_"I have some pieces to put on the board that should take care of that."  
_  
\- A recorded conversation between Calliste Auriel and Iacchus Agrippa.

Day Twelve

Sleeping in the cave had become remarkably relaxing for Soryn. Or maybe it was the extra sleep he was getting. Either way, joining the others had already prooved to be an excellant choice.

Waking up earlier than intended was not necessarily surprising, but since it was accompanied by an irregular ruckus, he shook himself awake. The infrequently repeated thumping prompted Soryn to investigate.

Nylia was not immediately outside the mouth of the cave, instead she was slightly off to the side with a handful of knives in hand.

"It's probably not a good idea to be making so much noise." Soryn whispered, bearly loud enough to grab her attention.

The girl stood up straight and looked Soryn with a surprised look on her face.

"So this is what you do on your watch?" Soryn asked.

Nylia hunched her shoulders over, sheepishly looking at the collection of knives littering the ground around the tree trunk.

"I see. So why do you want to learn how to throw knives so bad? Don't you have any other skills to make use of?"

"No." Nylia quietly replied.

Soryn stretched, running his hand through his hair.

"Maybe I can teach you how I learned it." Soryn offered. "Is that okay with you?"

Nylia's eyes brightened as she enthusiastically nodded her head.

With every last person in the Capitol listening in, it was best to be as vague as possible, but Soryn still wanted to help.

Day Fourteen

Soryn was not expecting her to get it right away. He still was not sure how he was able to get the blade to arc perfectly and consistently land the blade in the target, but that was still a long way off for Nylia. They would have to stick with the basics.

After spending most of the day on it, her aim had improved, but she was still missing the target by a few inches and routinely hit on every side except the point.

If it had not been for the fact that they were on camera, Soryn might have shown more irritation. He had never had to teach anyone before, and as patient as he was when hunting, he had a hard time tolerating people who he found to be idiotic. Even so, Nylia was still at the point of tears.

"It looks like it's time for a break." Soryn sighed. "When was the last time we checked on the stew?"

Between all of the contents of their backs and some other resources picked from the arena, Soryn and Nylia had managed to concoct a highly flammable substance.

Unfortunately, the initial results were less than adequate for their purposes, even if it did make a good fire-starter, so they decided to let it ferment for a few days to see if it offered better results.

"How is it?" Soryn asked.

Gingerly dipping a stick into the substance, Nylia found a rock and lit it on fire with a match. A smile lit up her face when a collection of flames consumed the fuel after an extended burn, leaving a blackened splotch on the rock.

"What's that smell?" Saerah gagging as she walked out of the cave.

Jack followed her out, stretching and blinking in the sunlight.

"So our little 'gift' for our adversaries is ready?" Jack asked.

"It looks like." Soryn replied.

Nylia looked saddened.

"Hey, don't worry." Soryn We'll be back within a couple of days. I can help you some more

"We can hold things down here." Jack declared, placing a hand on Nylia's shoulder.

"Okay, get as much of our stuff ready to go. I want to move our camp after we get back. Saerah, how soon can you be ready to move out?"

"A couple of minutes." She answered with a shrug.

"Then that's when we're leaving.

"M-m-make sure y-you t-take these." Nylia said, passing them both a pair of glasses.

Soryn tried them on, but immediately felt a sense of nausea."N-n-no y-you don't-t wear them d-during the d-d-day."

"Night glasses?" Jack asked Nylia.

Nylia nodded her confirmation.

Getting their equipment ready, Soryn felt a sense of dread. They were going to the heart of the enemy's camp, so it should not be surprising, but it did not feel like it was coming from that. Caution was going to be even more critical for their operation.

Day Fifteen

Soryn and Saerah had spent most of the day weaving throughout the forest. Even though they risked stumbling onto other tributes, they had decided it would be best to leave a trail that would be difficult to follow in case.

"Okay, we're going to have to be quiet from here on out."

When they could not see clearly anymore, they donned the night glasses. It took Soryn a while to adjust, but he did not feel like he was about to throw up again. He had developed pretty good night sight, but it was too dark to rely on it when they would likely be running once they were done.

Approaching the camp, Soryn stopped and turned to his partner.

"If something goes wrong, you get out as fast as you can." He said,

Saerah opened her mouth to object, but Soryn cut her off.

"If I can find a way out, it will be easier if I'm not worrying about you, too. If I can't…I can buy you some time to escape."

Saerah grimaced, not pleased, but without any other options, she was stuck with it. "Don't try to be a hero." she said as she slipped into the shadows.

"I can't promise that, but I'll avoid it if at all possible."

Sneaking through an open field was always a challenge, even after his years on the streets. He could not afford any mistakes with what was likely the entirety of Gaius' crew.

The cloudy sky provided plenty of good shadows offered plenty of darkness to compensate, but with the moon overhead, it could and would vanish in an instant.

Soryn approached the collection of gear. It seemed silly for them to set up two places to guard. "But they also have more people." Soryn thought.

The crawling was tedious, as was resisting the urge to swat at the mosquito helping itself to a hefty meal.

As he got closer, he grew increasingly paranoid that he was not able to see anyone standing watch. He was skilled when it came to sneaking around in the woods, but in an open field with short grass, even in the dark, it would not take the greatest set of eyes to spot him. When he had finally gotten close to the pile, he saw why he had gone unnoticed.

Jory was slumped over, sitting on a large plastic container, snoring away when he was supposed to be watching. As Soryn was about to eliminate the slumbering tribute, he caught a glimpse of a vague silhouette standing at the cliffs. Without a guarantee that Jory would not make a ruckus if a knife was driven into his throat, Soryn went forward with their original objective. And there was the cannon to consider.

Pouring the foul-smelling liquid over the supplies, Soryn placed the emptied bottles at the top and placed the full canteen at the center. Soryn cringed when Jory stirred, but the boy went right back to sleep. Then Soryn let the match and ran.

While jumping Soryn was jumping back into the woods, Jory had finally noticed the fire, which had since spread to his clothing.

The fire had also caught the attention of the others, who were quickly roused by Jory's panicking.

"You three, stay here and guard the Cornucopia." Gaius barked. "I don't want anything coming behind us."

Gaius and Ruby ran to see if they could salvage anything when the stockpile exploded, raining bits of molten plastic over the field.

Gaius tried to push closer to the flames, but was driven back by the fumes and heat.  
Everyone just stood in shock as the fire consumed all of the supplies while Soryn and Saerah watched from the cover of the trees.

"Did you mean to make it that potent?" Saerah asked.

"Not really." Soryn replied. "But it did what we wanted. Let's go back and tell the others the good news."

"Don't you think we should see what they do?"

"The longer we stay here, the more we risk a tussle. We can check on the camp later and see where their trail leads.

/-\\\

Gaius and the others all stood around, watching the blaze dance, fueled by the contents of their stockpile.

"What happened!?" Nicasia questioned.

Ignoring his partner, Gaius drew his sword and approached Jory.

"What're you doing, Gaius?" Jory asked, nervously sliding up against the Cornucopia.

"We promised each other our strength. You have none left to offer."

Frantically fumbling for his sword, Jory tried to stand to his feet only to stumble forward when his leg gave out, landing on the point of Gaius' sword.

"We can't afford any dead weight." Gaius said, pulling the blade from Jory's chest.

A cannon shot heralded the boy's demise.

"Gather the others and grab only the things you need; we're going completely mobile."

A scream drew their attention as Annae challenged a monstrosity of a muttation. The mutt was probably a bear of some sort, but easily dwarfed any of its natural cousins, and was covered in long, sharp spines that hung from its body like thick strands of hair.

Nicasia was circling around, throwing knives that bounced of the tough, spiny hide while Annae ran her spear into shoulder. Not even distracting it, the beast tackled Annae, clamping down on her torso, and cutting off her wounded arm.

Slamming her axe on the creature's neck, Ruby managed to draw both some blood and its attention, narrowly hopping out of the way when it swung a claw in her direction while dropping its original choice of dinner.

Gaius stepped in, slashing it across the face, but leaving only superficial wounds and clipping the end of some spines while stepping just out of reach of its jaws.

While Nicasia tried dragging Annae out of the way, she was stopped when her wounded colleague slapped her assistance away with her remaining arm, covered in blood.

The wounded girl rose to her feet and ran at the mutt, snarling in defiance. "Are you hungry?" Annae shouted, using the blood spewing from the stump if her arm to get it to face her.

The creature's next swipe of its claws gouged her leg, but between the adrenaline and the pain from her other injuries, she hardly noticed. Tearing her spear free from its hide and thrust the spear into its eye.

When the creature reared and roared, Gaius dove underneath, driving his sword into the underside of its neck, gouging its throat open.

With the creature dead, Annae collapsed, coughing out a mouthful of blood. As the last light from her eyes died out, the cannon sounded for a second time.

There was not much to retrieve from the girl's corpse when the hovercraft came to pick it up. Gaius watched the process until the hovercraft was out of sigh before joining the others in scrounging up their supplies. Only Ruby and Nicasia remained.

"It looks like Jett's run off." Gaius remarked. "I trust that it's safe to assume that he is no longer our ally?"

Ruby grunted her approval, almost happy to be rid of him.

"Very well." Gaius said. "Shall we move along?"

Their number was halved, but the only real loss they had suffered was Annae, and it was doubtful if she would have lasted long anyway with only one usable arm.

"Do you think they did this?" Ruby asked.

"If by 'they' you mean the duo from Three, no." Gaius replied. "They're daring, but not stupid. They wouldn't come at us again so soon."

"Then who do you think did it?"

Gaius ignored her and grabbed his gear, looking to the horizon.

"Well played, Soryn." Gaius thought to himself.

/-\\\

The first cannon shot was not all that surprising. Since Jory had fallen asleep while on watch, someone had probably vented their frustration on the fool. It was the second shot that nearly made Soryn freeze.

"What is it, Soryn?" Saerah asked, nearly running into him.

"Unless they all went crazy and began cutting the weak links, we might have cut things close back there." Soryn replied.

"Who's to say they didn't?"

"Because we would have likely heard more cannon shots by now. Also, wouldn't it make more sense to wait until more tributes were out of the way before doing something like that?"

"I still don't know what you're getting at."

"We need to get back to camp."

Their crawling pace picked up the further they got from the Cornucopia, gradually getting faster until Saerah was struggling to keep pace with Soryn.

As they got close to camp, a loud snarl filled the air.

"Oh no." Saerah whispered.

/-\\\

Jack poked at the ground with the pommel of his axe, staring blankly at the drawings he made.

Nylia was working with the knives that Soryn had left her to practice with. She had since wound up throwing them like darts since the other method was proving too difficult for her to grasp in the amount of time they had.

The cannon announced the next death. They probably would not find out until the next evening, unless Soryn and Saerah were able to get back earlier than expected. He could see a column of smoke rising above the trees in the distance, which meant that their friends had been successful.

"It looks like your concoction worked quite well, Nylia." Jack said.  
The girl looked away from what she was doing with a slight smile on her face. Her expression shifted to fear when she saw Jack running in her direction with his weapon in hand. She could not get herself to move, but she did not have to.

Jack shoved her out of the way just before a sweeping claw cut her back open. The axe caught the mutt's paw, prompting it to let out a deafening snarl before it shoved Jack away.

"Get out of here, Nylia!" Jack shouted, turning to face the monster again. He had seen plenty of bears wandering through the woods before back in District Seven, but the mutt he was facing looked like it had wandered out of a nightmare.

The first series of blows did not seem to bother it all that much, merely cutting some of the spines away and leaving only minimal scratches on the skin below.

"What's this thing made out of?!" Jack bellowed, leaping at the creature.

The mutt moved lazily, but intercepting him in the air did not require much effort on its part, swatting Jack out of the air.

Jack coughed. The blow had cracked some of his ribs, making breathing a difficult task. The monster stared at its wounded prey, almost as if it was playing with a peculiar toy. Its curiosity soon ran short and it looked to Nylia, who was huddled up next to a tree.

"No you don't!" Jack roared, slamming the axe onto its neck, pulling it free for another swing.

The speed at which the mutt moved caught Jack off guard and in what seemed like an instant it had him pinned against the tree. The beast tried taking a bite, but with the axe firmly wedged into its jaw, the creature went to gnawing on the tribute instead.

Between elbowing the mutt in the face and wincing from the teeth pressing into his torso, Jack saw Nylia was standing in the open, frozen in terror.

"What are you doing just sitting there?" He shouted. "Run!"

Nylia tried throwing knives at the creature, but they all bounced off.

"You aren't going to be able to do anything. Just run before it comes after you."

The girl shook her head.

"Fine!" Jack shouted, thrusting his fist down the beast's throat, grabbing its tongue.  
The mutt clamped down on Jack's arm, cutting to the bone.

Pulling the axe with his good arm, Jack jerked the weapon back and forth until the axe was free and the most of the creature's teeth were scattered across the ground. Gripping near the head of his weapon, Jack repeatedly drove the axe into the mutt's neck, spraying blood all over the place.

"Bleed out and die!" Jack screamed along with a string of other obscenities that wound up gargled through a mouthful of blood.

The screaming continued until the beast loosened its hold, allowing Jack to free himself.

Nylia rushed to his side, trying to patch up his wounds.

"It's too late for me, kiddo." Jack said, shoving her hands away. "Though I will take something for the pain."

"If-f-f I h-hadn't..." She began.

"It wasn't your fault, Nylia. Even if we knew it was coming and we were prepared, I don't think I would have been able to kill it without something like this happening."

While Nylia tried to alleviate Jack's suffering, Soryn came rushing up the path with Saerah trailing behind, both with their weapons at the ready.

"Took you guys long enough." Jack rasped, smirking. "But I already killed it."

Soryn looked at the felled creature and then back at Jack

"Wow." Soryn finally said.

"It didn't go down easy though." Jack added.

Soryn looked like he was trying to say something, but did not like what he was coming up with.

"Soryn." Jack said with a cough, gesturing him to come closer.

"What is it?" Soryn asked.

"It looks like it's up to you guys now. Look after them for me."

When the cannon went off, it seemed quieter than it had before.

Jack did not have much on himself, so they were able to leave his body alone when the hovercraft came to take him away.

Soryn walked over to the mutt's corpse, giving it a solid kick and then picked some of the teeth that were laying around.

"Keep this with you." Soryn said, placing a tooth in each of his allies' hands.

"What's this for?" Saerah asked.

"We're going to survive," Soryn growled. "And we're going to remember him. Now let's get out of here. I'm sure someone saw the hovercraft."


	12. Chapter 12

"_They're moving too far away from each other again. Get them to run into each other, but make sure it's interesting."  
_  
\- Recorded phone call from Iacchus Agrippa to Enok Mars

Day Nineteen

A heavy fog hung over the arena in the early hours of daylight as Philyp and Sonny crept along the cliffs.

The mutt from the night before had proven to be quite the challenge, fortunately they had been close enough to a cliff that they were able to dispose of it in a timely manner. Three of the other tributes had died during the night.

"So what do you think happened?" Philyp asked, breaking the morning's silence.

"I don't know, Philyp." Sonny retorted. "And frankly, I don't care."

"Come on! You have to be at least curious."

"Not really."

"Do you have any theories at least?"

Sonny stopped and turned to her partner. "If it'll shut you up? Sure. I think that every group got a mutt, maybe even the exact same type.

"No epic showdown? Now glorious battle?"

"Not after their earlier performance. Now shut up. We don't want to let the others know where we are."

"Fine." Philyp replied with deliberately feigned annoyance. "It's really humid."

"Stop making some much noise."

The sky quivered with Iacchus' booming voice. "Attention, tributes." The announcer said, practically singing. "Here shortly, you will be given direction to a different part of the arena. Keep your wits about you; this is now a feast."

And then the loudspeaker clicked out.

"Okay, so what are they going to do?" Philyp wondered out loud.

"I don't know." Sonny answered. "They usually give us a location before calling a feast."

"Well, let's keep moving until this thing takes effect."

Within a few minutes, a large flock of colorful birds passed overhead, moving towards the mountains to the east.

"What's that smell?" Sonny asked.

"Wasn't me." Philyp chuckled. "And who was it that was saying we shouldn't make too much noise?"

"No you idiot, can't you-"

"Fire." Philyp concluded, suddenly serious. "From the west, I'd guess."

In couple of minutes, a raging inferno spread in front of them, consuming everything in its path as the two tributes fled the searing heat. The fires swept through the woods, quickly burning away the moisture in its advancing wall.

"I guess it isn't very humid anymore." Philyp shouted.

"Just run for the river."

The current was remarkably light compared to earlier. It was clear that the Gamemakers decided it was time for another battle and were guiding them straight to each other. The only question that remained was who all would be there.

Their arrival on the opposite bank was met with another fire and a cloud of smoke.

Even with the sporadic presence of trees, the flames moved as steadily as before, egging them along a path set by the Gamemakers.

The path ended at clearing littered with rocks and patches of grass, where Gaius and Ruby were waiting.

"It looks like we've come out of the fire and into the frying pan." Philyp said, pulling his sword free from the sheath. Spinning around, he met Nicaisa a she leapt from her hiding spot behind a stump.

"You deal with her, I'll take the other two." Sonny said.

"Make sure you leave some for me." Philyp called as she ran off.

"You should be more worried." Nicasia said.

"About her stealing all of the good fights? Not really."

Lazily blocking her attacks, Philyp turned to face her, barely spotting the dagger flying at his head in time to catch it. Deflecting the blade away, Nicasia lunged toward him again, slashing at his chest, but missed anything vital because Philyp leaned backwards.

Wheeling around, Philyp swung at her again, narrowly missing her when she dropped to the ground.

Throwing another knife, Nicasia lunged at her opponent again, aiming for his back.

"Nope!" Philyp shouted, catching Nicasia by the neck with the crook of his arm.  
Throwing her to the ground, he kicked her in the ribs, doubling her over.

Grabbing Nicasia by her hair, he lifted the other tribute to her knees. Her punch was slow and was quickly slashed by Philyp.

Looking at the other scuffle, Philyp saw caught Gaius' eye and drove the sword into Nicasia's chest.

In a fit of fury, Gaius rushed at Philyp, picking up Sonny by her left arm and slamming her to the ground and dislocating her arm in the process.

Ruby ran up to Sonny with her axe raised above her head.

"Time for some payback." She declared and swung her weapon down.

Catching the handle with her feet, Sonny deflected Ruby's strike and jumped to her feet, trying the catch her opponent in the back of the neck.

Ruby drew a knife from her belt and countered, depriving her enemy of her weapon, and reached to grab her axe.

Sonny dipped and rolled Ruby over her back, following her momentum and landing on her. Picking up Ruby's dropped knife, Sonny scooped it up and slashed at her, gouging her wrist-guard when she raised her arm to block.

"A little help would be nice!" Sonny shouted.

"I'm a bit busy at the moment!" Philyp shouted back.

Gaius continued to hammer against Philyp's defense, shoving him back with each consecutive blow.

Between the smoke and his injuries from Nicasia, Philyp had slowed down enough that he could not properly exploit the openings that Gaius left between his attacks, nearly costing him his life when a coughing fit made late to block, recieving a cut to the shoulder for his troubles.

Sliding out from under the weight of Gaius' attack, Philyp jumped away from his opponent, stopping next to his partner.

The flames dissipated with a loud hiss, shrouding the area in cloud of smoke.

"It appears this fight is over." Philyp said as he and his partner disappeared into the concealment.

Gaius resisted the urge to chase them down. Nicasia was too far gone to be saved, but vengeance was not a viable option, even if they had managed to wound them. For once, Ruby did not require force to keep her from doing something stupid. In fact, she stood guard, her axe in one hand, cradled over her back, and her spear hanging in the other at her side.

"Gaius?" Nicasia groaned.

"I'm here." Gaius answered.

"That guy's fast."

"Yes, he is."

"I thought I had his reaction time down, but I still couldn't do it."

"That's what you get for taking on someone with a higher score than you." Gaius replied sadly. His partner looked more fragile than any time Gaius could remember.

"I still think a nine was pretty cool." Nicasia said with a pained smile. "You're gonna be okay without me, right?"

"I'll be fine. You just take it easy."

If he had not heard the cannon, it would have been much longer before Gaius realized that Nicasia had expired. Clearing the area for the hovercraft, Ruby fell in behind him.

"So where do we go next?" she asked.

Gaius cast one look as Nicasia's body was drawn into the hull.

"We'll rest for now, then we hunt those two down.

/-\\\

Day Twenty

Soryn rolled the tooth in his hands while he kept watch. The most recent death was that of Nicasia during the feast, which would hopefully keep the audience and the gamemakers happy for a while.

Ten tributes remaining for the Seventh Hunger Games. Nearly a third of that number was made up by him and his own allies. Gaius and his crew were still up and around as were Philyp and Sonny. Mitch and Sway were also out there.

He wondered how Sway felt, losing her partner. Maybe she did not know him enough to care, or was one of the types who would not care either way.

A short distance away, Saerah and Nylia were huddled next to each other, having long since fallen asleep.

Jack's death had left Soryn feeling hollower than he thought it would, but Nylia was the one who had taken it the hardest.

The last words the man ever uttered played over and over in an endless loop.

"Take care of them for me."

Soryn bitterly scoffed. "You wouldn't trust me if you knew my history." he thought to himself.

His thoughts were disrupted by Saerah, ready to take up watch.

"You doing okay?" she asked.

"I've had worse." He answered.

"Well, try to get some sleep."

"Sure thing."

Nylia was mumbling in her sleep, a litany of what could be made out as "I'm sorry."

"Don't blame yourself, kid." Soryn whispered, placing a hand on her head.

Sleep was slow to reach him, and its embrace opened to a new host of nightmares.

/-\\\

The night had been a cold one and sleeping on the ground with their injuries, no matter how well they had treated them still left them aching.

Breakfast was sparse, just what they had from before along with some things they scrounged from the nearby area.

Philyp began drumming against his lap, first with a chaotic rhythm and then a distinct pattern.

Sonny hummed along with the rhythm, hoping that their mentor was there to hear it.. The communication relied mostly on Philyp, but she felt like adding to it.

In a few hours, a silver canister rested in the center of their camp. Philyp checked the contents, an ointment, against the burns and quickly passed it to Sonny.

Philyp looked towards the sky and smiled. "Thanks, Landon."

Their mentor was not big on talking, but their communication was still effective nonetheless. Philyp could not recall ever hearing him say a word to anyone before he started training him and Sonny as potential tributes. It made most people who wanted to interview the victor extremely frustrated, but it also made him very good at listening.

After their burns were treated, Philyp spent a portion of the day chasing some snakes he had found. By evening, he had a half dozen cut open, pulling out their insides in organized piles.

"What are those for?" Sonny asked, looking at the bulbous heads. "I don't think mutts would make for a good meal."

"A little extra something in case we have to retreat again." Philyp replied, holding one of the organs between a pair of sticks. "I left some pretty good hits on Gaius, but if we had this earlier, he and Ruby would be as good as dead."

"What happened to your 'glorious battles'?"

"We got lucky that time. We had the advantage of surprise in our previous scuffles, and if we want to have a hope of winning, we need to end it fast."

Sonny noticed the tired edge to her partner's voice, but she did not need that to know he was right. It was coming close to a month since the Games started. With the inreasing prices, the ointment was liable to be the last of their outside help until the end.

A rustling distracted them from the somber atmosphere and alerted them to the approach another tribute.

Stumbling into the clearing, Sway caught sight of the other tributes and began to run away. Philyp sprinted after her, slashing between her shoulder blades, barely nicking her shoulder when she tripped over a root.

The girl curled up, whimpering in anticipation of the finishing blow.

"Run." Philyp said firmly.

Sway peeked at Philyp, standing with his sword held at his side.

"I'm too tired to be very interested in running or fighting. Get out of here before I change my mind."

Slowly, she got back to her feet and then she disappeared like a rabbit.

Philyp returned to the camp, plopping down next to Sonny.

"Now we wait."

"That's going to take days." Sonny commented.

"Then we wait a long time."

/-\\\

Day Twenty-One

Jett crawled through the burned out trees and bushes, cursing and muttering to himself.

"Why me?" he whined.

Hunger had set in a long time ago, and his thirst had driven him to dehydration and drinking water from the river. After he had defecated the remaining contents of his stomach and vomited so much that he was left sobbing, he was running from a wall of fire.

Taking shelter in a cave along the river, he managed to avoid suffocating and stomached some water long enough to rehydrate.

His feelings of self-pity were briefly banished from his mind when he found a small stream. Grateful for a calmer current, Jett crashed headfirst into the water, blowing bubbles with a contented sigh. The cooling sensation felt nice, but did little to alleviate the burns.

He really needed food. He had lost his pack in the fire, and with it, everything he had manage to scrounge up after the mutt attacked. He had no intention of waiting to see if they could beat it, nor did he have any intention of seeing what Gaius would have done to him if he had decided to stay.

"I'll show them." Jett muttered.

His search was ended when he noticed a small bush laden with shiny, blue berries.  
Hunger overrode any rationale or instinct to avoid stripping the bush of every berry he could find and stuffing them into his mouth. His hunger soon dissipated, and the more the berries passed through his lips, the more his vision began to blur…


	13. Chapter 13

"_Things have been a bit quiet for those three, haven't they? Drum up something to get them moving again, but don't drag any other tributes in for now."_

_"Yes, sir."_

_(Silence)_

_"What's that one doing?"_

_"I honestly can't say, sir. He's been acting like that for several days now."_

_"…Keep a couple of teams on rotation with the hovercraft."_

_"Is that really necessary, sir?"_

_"Do you really want to wait and find out?"  
_  
\- A recorded conversation between Iacchus Agrippa and Ciro, Enok Mars' Adjutant

Day Twenty-Three

Three days and no cannons. Philyp was only mildly annoyed.

"You're sure this is where she ran off to?" Sonny asked.

"Positive. She should be screaming by now, or at least making some noise."

"Your confidence is inspiring."

"No, really. Just a little bit of that stuff should do the trick."

"Look at where we are. Unless you think she's thinking about jumping off the cliff right at this moment, I doubt we're going to find her here."

"We'll take a look, and until we get there, let's keep our mouths shut so we don't scare them off."

The next step forward dropped Philyp into a pit.

"What in the…?!" Philyp exclaimed.

"Are you alright?" Sonny asked.

"No, I really just broke my ankle in a pit that's no deeper than my toilet. Of course I'm fine!"

"Sheesh. And you get onto me about sarcasm."

"But it's nice to know you're concerned for my well-being."

"Shut up."

Their bickering immediately stopped when they saw Mitch standing next to a tree, trying to discreetly zip up his pants.

"You've got to be kidding me." Philyp muttered. "Finish up!"

Mitch looked at the other tributes, his face contorted like he was more embarrassed than terrified. Keeping his eyes on them, Mitch turned around to face them, and then bolted.

Philyp was quickly at his heels, bringing his sword down on the other boy's back. A grouping of branches caught the blade in the air, giving Mitch time to tackle Philyp before he could draw his knife out.

Grabbing a lose branch, Mitch largely blocked Sonny's axe from burying into his back, but quickly received a kick in the chest in return, giving Philyp time to get back to his feet.

Gasping on the ground on his knees, Mitch checked his back for injuries and wiped the blood on his pants. With the branch still in hand, he backed away from the duo, parrying Philyp's faints. The treeline opened up to the vast valley below them; the edge of the arena.

Mitch nervously eyed the cliff, brandishing his makeshift weapon at his opponents.

"What are you going to do?" Sonny asked.

Before Mitch could reply, Philyp was lunging at him. The branch did little other than mitigate the blow, snapping at the impact of the sword. But instead of losing an arm, Mitch had a gash instead.

And then Philyp kicked him over the edge.

Disappearing from view, Philyp and Sonny looked over the edge. A minute passed, but the cannon did not fire.

"Wow." Philyp said, surprised. "What's down there for him to grab onto?"

Sonny just rolled her eyes back and shook her head as she walked away, having lost interest.

"You keep that up, Eleven." Philyp called down "If you're still here when we get back, we'll have another go at this. Okay?"

The wind was the only reply.

"Oh, yeah. You're going to have to find a way to climb up with one hand, but you have some time to sort that out. Catch you later!"

With that, Philyp skipped off to follow Sonny.

/-\\\

Day Twenty-Four

The waiting was aggravating Soryn to no end. It had been five days since Nicasia had been eliminated, but he could tell there were things happening in elsewhere in the arena. The wildlife kept stirring, disturbed by something elsewhere in the forest.

But there was no sight or sound of any other tributes, nor had there been at any point in the last several days. He wanted to fight something instead of just sitting around.

Saerah was sitting watch, but Soryn was having trouble going to sleep. Too many things he was trying to figure out. How long would their resources hold out? What new horrors was the Capitol pitting against them? The others, while physically capable, we still recovering from Jack's death; shoving them into another confrontation would be a disaster.

The one who was worse off was Nylia, who had begun showing more signs of weariness by the day. It had gotten so bad that Saerah made her stop taking watch. With twenty-four days in the arena, the prices of anything that would help her would be absurdly high, so unless someone had vested interest in keeping all of them alive, their best option was to minimize her involvement.

Something about the air put him on edge, not entirely dissimilar to when he heard a hovercraft approaching. A chill crept up Soryn's spine, disrupting Nylia's sleep. Soryn winced when he saw her eyes open.

"What time is it?" she asked, too tired to stutter.

"Not morning." Soryn replied. "Go back to sleep."

When Nylia curled back up to fall asleep again, Soryn got up to walk around.

"You should be resting." Saerah said, looking at Soryn. The minimal light provided by the moon highlighted the weariness in her eyes.

"Can't sleep." Soryn replied. "How are you holding up?"

Saerah let out a tired sigh. "I'm fine."

"If you want, I can take over watch. It's not like I'm getting any sleep anyway."

"I said I'm fine!"

"…Okay."

Saerah shook her head and looked back at Nylia, who was still asleep.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you like that."

"It's alright."

"It's not alright. What happens to the rest of you when you can't rely on me when I'm needed?"

"You haven't let us down so far. I think you can last a couple more days."

Saerah eyed him suspiciously. In return, Soryn slightly shook his head and right hand. Saerah seemed to catch onto his message: "Not here, and not out loud."

The two of them looked out over the arena from their viewpoint.

"I think I'll keep up watch." Saerah said, drawing in a deep breath through her nose. "But some company would be nice."

"Okay."

"Any idea what's happening out there?"

"Not sure. It's been too quiet for us recently, and with only ten of us left, they're bound to grab every loose tribute and throw us at each other."

A blood curdling screech echoed across the woods.

"Like now?" Saerah asked, leaping to her feet.

"That wasn't human."

Nylia sat up, whimpering in terror.

"Grab our stuff!" Soryn shouted as he clambered up the nearest tree. At the top, he could see a good distance around. The trees around were shaking, shuddering in manner that indicated the approach of either a massive creature or a multitude. It was coming straight towards them.

Sliding back down, Soryn grabbed his backpack and swung another over his shoulder, taking Nylia by the hand.

"What is it?" Saerah asked with an edge of worry to her voice.

"I don't know, but I don't think it's a good idea to stay here to find out."

They did not have time to bother gathering up Nylia's sleeping bag, leaving it behind at their campsite as they fled into the night.

Saerah took point, surveying the forest with wary eyes and an arrow nocked. Their flight dragged on for minutes before they decided to stop.

"D-d-do you th-think it was after u-u-us?" Nylia asked.

"I didn't see anything else that was further out behind us that I saw." Saerah said, panting heavily.

Soryn exhaled sharply. "Me neither. They probably-"

An explosion cut him off, casting a silence over the forest in its wake. A short while afterwards, the ground began to shift.

"RUN!" Soryn shouted, picking up Nylia at the expense of one of the extra bags.

The trembling in the ground turned into a roar as it slid and broke apart.

A fissure opened up in front of them. The end of the Gamemakers' controlled landslide.

Without hesitation, Soryn tossed Nylia across, jumping shortly after. Rolling back to his feet, Soryn looked back and saw Saerah second guessing her jump. The fall, maybe ten feet from his estimation, was the least of her worries if she missed. The crumbling and shifting mass of earth would either snap her ankles or drag her under.

"Come on!" he shouted, waving her over.

Instead of jumping, she clambered down, hopping on the larger rocks as stepping stones as the rolled away from the cliff.

Soryn reached into his backpack, grabbing the coiled rope and tied a quick knot and tossed the rest down to Saerah. Another explosion shook the cliffs, nearly knocking Saerah off balance as the slide began to accelerate.

Reaching the base of the cliff, Saerah jumped up the rope as another fissure opened beneath them, casting the chunk of the arena into the valley below. Looking around, she could see some of the cliffs that were beyond the edge of the arena.

"You okay?" Soryn called from above.

"Yeah." she called back after a brief pause.

"We're going to pull you up. Just hang on."

Saerah smiled. He almost seemed worried. Then she remembered that they were still in the arena, so there might be something waiting for them at the top. She still had most of her arrows in the quiver and her bow was still intact, all she had to do was wait as her allies hoisted her up.

As she crawled over the edge, she could see what had them so worried.

Hanging in the tree canopy was a small army of shaggy, silvery shapes. Apart from some sporadic hissing, the creatures hung in silence, staring at the tributes. Monkeys? Sloths? Clearly a type of Mutt, but beyond that, Saerah could not quite tell what they were supposed to be.

"Don't look directly at them." Soryn whispered.

Saerah hastily complied, eliciting a slight stir from above, but nothing more.

"Nobody make any sudden moves." Soryn continued.

Skirting the edge of the cliff, Soryn led them away from the assembled creatures. They mutts followed at a slow pace. Slowly, Saerah readied her bow. She noted that Nylia had a machete, likely handed to her by Soryn to give her a way to defend herself.

Over the cliff, bits of the rock face cracked and crumbled. Soryn seemed to sense Saerah's concern and led them away from the edge.

Suddenly, a hunk of the cliff crumbled away, nearly taking all three of them down with it. Saerah hopped back and Soryn practically stumbled forward before swinging around to catch Nylia's arm.

The slight rustling erupted into a cacophony of screeching as the mutts began dropping from the trees. Saerah wheeled around in time to see a throwing knife fly past her head and sink into the nearest mutt's chest. The next mutt dropped to the ground with an arrow through its eye.

"Saerah, get over here!"

She promptly complied, regrouping as Soryn covered her with a flurry of throwing knives. Nylia stabbed at the mutts that landed around them, trying not to fall over the edge.

Saerah dropped two more mutts, but they began to rush her faster than she could shoot them. Soryn cut through them with his swords, giving Saerah some relief.

The momentary exposure of his back allowed one mutt to slip behind him. But instead of tearing into Soryn's back, Nylia skewered it on her machete. In its death throes, it tried clawing at her face, scratching around her eye before Soryn decapitated it.

As the monkeys regrouped for another push, Soryn put the girls behind him, swords at the ready.

The cannon sounded in the distance, barely audible over the din of the monkeys. As if that were a cue, the monkeys all pulled back in unison, retreating back into the forest.

After the monkeys had disappeared from view, Soryn loudly exhaled, sinking to  
one knee. Saerah grabbed some bandages from her back to patch up Nylia's face. To her credit, the younger tribute did not whimper or complain as she was treated.

"Can you still see?" Saerah asked once she was finished.

Nylia nodded.

"It's good thing they missed your eye." Soryn said, cleaning his weapons on the grass. "Thanks."

Nylia smiled.

"What do you think happened?" Saerah asked. "They had us."

Soryn looked to the horizon as the sun began to peek over. A shadow passed overhead; the retrieval hovercraft.

"I think someone else bought us some time."

/-\\\

Sway was in dire straits.

Ever since she had her run-in with Philyp, she had noticed a gradually intensifying pain. She had managed to treat the immediate injury, but still only delayed outright agony. The cool nights had done little to curb her absurdly high temperatures that had soon followed, so she was dehydrated and paralyzed with pain.

And the ringing in her ears had not stopped for days; days without sleep or reprieve from the incessant pain that was now coursing through her body with nothing to keep her company except the ringing and her own whimpering.

Then she heard footsteps.

Quietly gasping, she quickly put her hand to her mouth. Hopefully it would be a wild animal that would avoid her like most others had. Then she realized that the steps were too heavy and irregular to be any animal she had ever heard of.

The erratic steps moved closer, stumbling every so often as they dragged along the ground. The voice became more distinct as well. Groaning and growling accompanied by a mantra of broken sentences.

"…Show them. KILL…them." the voice hissed, nearly warbling every word.

Sway clasped her hand closer to her mouth, threatening to suffocate herself.

A quiet fell on everything when the steps stopped; the wind halted, the crickets ceased their song, and even the ringing in her ears was chased away. Sway was trying not to breathe while simultaneously hoping that it was just a hallucination.

"I smell you, girl." A voice said, sniffing the air with a snarl. "Blood."

The light was still fading over the horizon, making it hard to see anything that was not near the opening of the cave. Sway had already put herself in the deepest shadows, hoping that the other tributes would forget about her long enough to kill each other off.

She had not felt bad about it; her District partner was already dead. Now her hopes of seeing her home again vanished from her mind as a nightmare stumbled into the cave.

Backlit by the light at the mouth of the cave, Sway could make out a few features of the intruder. His hair was blond, though that was hard to tell with all of the mud. His clothes were torn in places and the mud gave the figure a ghastly look in the low lighting.

"Found you!" the boy said, singing with glee as he crawled towards the girl with a manic grin.


	14. Chapter 14

"_What the [REDACTED] was that?!"_

_"We had no idea that sort of reaction-"_

_"Save it."_

_(Silence)_

_"Be thankful that the President hasn't called any of you yet."_

_(Silence)_

_"I mean seriously. It took an entire squad to pry him off of her corpse long enough to get it out of the arena. You better hope that someone can take that [REDACTED] down, otherwise I'll lock you in a room with him when this is all over."_

_(Door slams as Agrippa leaves)_

_"We cut the cameras in time, right?"_

_"Yes. Frankly, I wished we didn't have to see that."_

\- Meeting between Iacchus Agrippa and his staff

Day Twenty-Five

Mitch growled, trying to will his pain away.

The dirt was not doing anything good for his injuries, but washing them would have to wait. One of the things he remembered from the training sessions was to stay hydrated.

He could not keep himself hydrated if he used all of his water washing his wounds.  
Thinking seemed to help subdue the edge of pain. It had made the climb back up much easier, even with the cuts on his back and arm. They would pay for it, provided he would live long enough to enact any semblance of a plan.

Of course he would have to figure out where they had gone. He had no clue as to where he was, but with the cliffs at his back, he was able to narrow it down somewhat. That still could not account for the amount of weaving they might have done.

He thought about screaming until he got their attention, but that was just as liable to draw someone else to him.

A tingling sensation crawled up his spine. Whirling around, Mitch looked to see if anyone was following him. The wind picked, whistling across the branches. Coupled with the sun sinking over the horizon, it gave the forest an eerie quality.

When nothing stuck out, he shrugged and continued walking forward. He would have to find a place to rest before continuing his search.

In the morning, he would just have to keep wandering until he found them. He just wish he had a proper weapon and that the pain in his arm would go away.

/-\\\

Soryn and Saerah examined their chosen campsite. It was mostly clear with some bushes dotting the ground between the trees.

The area of the arena they had wandered into had no caves or rises, so if someone stumbled onto the camp, they would have even footing with them. Camping in the trees was off the table since Nylia could not climb more than a few feet off the ground with becoming spooked.

On even footing was not how they wanted to tackle their opponents.

"Is this good enough?" Saerah asked.

Soryn blew a puff of air up his face. "I guess it'll do."

They began setting up camp as night began to fall.

"It's getting a bit chilly" Saerah said, wrapping her arms around her chest.

Soryn shrugged and rolled his shoulders back. "Yeah, but with as many tributes still around, I don't think it would be a good idea to light a fire just yet."

"With the number of fires occurring lately, do you think they'd still come?"

"A smaller fire might be more tempting than a huge blaze, but I'm not ready to risk it."

"I guess the flashlights will have to do for now."

"Make sure you conserve power. I don't think we have any more batteries.

"Alright."

Sniffing the air, Soryn looked around the camp.

"I'm going to check our perimeter." He said, stepping past the trees that immediately surrounded the camp. The light soon failed and Soryn returned, settling down across from Saerah.

"We need a plan to take the others down." Soryn said.

The girls looked at him like he was crazy.

"It's only a matter of time before we have to face them." He continued.

"I don't think that's a good idea." said Saerah.

"I know, which is why we need a plan. Some way to give us the advantage."

"Anything in mind?"

"No. That's why I was saying 'we' need a plan."

His statement was met with silent stares.

"You can sleep on it." Soryn said, standing up and stretching. "We just need something before someone finds us."

Dinner was consumed in silence and no further discussion came up about their plan.

Day Twenty-Six

Saerah sat up leaning against a tree keeping watch over the camp. She tried recalling the last time she had seen Soryn sleep. Even though he stayed up with her for watch and did his own, he did not seem like he had slowed down. And every time she woke up to swap with him, he was wide awake. She almost wished she had that kind of energy.

As it was, it was a struggle for her to stay awake. She would be glad when the games were over. Then she could sleep in and no one could tell her what to do...

The sound of a twig snapping pulled her from her state of drowsiness. Surveying the camp, she spotted a shape approaching the camp. The shape was groaning, making its apparent attempts to sneak utterly useless. Soryn was already on his feet, prepared for a fight and Nylia was getting up next to him, crouching closely next to the tree.

Soryn nodded and Saerah fired an arrow at an approaching silhouette. A yelp of pain was heard, and Mitch stumbled into the moonlight with an arrow in his chest. As the boy collapsed to the ground, the cannon went off.

Soryn approached the corpse quickly, stopping short when he noticed a bush that had not been present earlier during the day. Looking at Mitch, Soryn saw that he was not carrying anything of value.

The bush held his attention.

As the hovercraft came overhead to retrieve Mitch's corpse, Philyp sprang from his hiding spot, knocking Soryn to the ground. Saerah released another arrow, grazing his shoulder, and nailing him in the chest with her second. As she notched her third arrow, Sonny jumped out from the tree she had been hiding in and easily dodged Saerah's poorly aimed shot.

Rolling back to his feet, Soryn grabbed the nearest blade in time to deflect Philyp's downward stroke and grabbed the arrow in his chest. With a shout of agony, Philyp backhanded Soryn and kicked him away, giving him time to break the shaft.

The other tribute breathed heavily, but kept an eye on Soryn as he gripped the sword with both hands. Something seemed off, even from before his immediate injuries.

"You've gotten slower." Soryn quipped.

Philyp ignored the comment and swung his sword at him. Dancing in an out of Philyp's reach, Soryn evaded his attacks. In the space between his opponent's strikes, Soryn could see a mixture of anger and weariness in his eyes.

"This is the highest scoring tribute?" Soryn thought to himself. Crossing blades, he could tell that Philyp still had his strength, but he could also see that his time in the arenea had taken its toll on him.

Deflecting Philyp's swing into the dirt, Soryn slit the boy's dominant wrist and moved behind him, slashing the back of his left knee, sending Philyp falling to the ground as he swung around to hit Soryn.

Grabbing the falling tribute's arm, Soryn planted his blade in the shoulder of Philyp's remaining arm and jumped on top of him. With a boot at his back coupled with a pull and a twist, Philyp's sword arm gave way, dislocating at the shoulder as Soryn wrenched the blade from his grip.

Philyp looked up at Soryn as he held the sword above him.

"The friggin' shrimp beat me." he muttered, his words sputtering in the dirt.  
With a slight heave, Soryn drove the sword into the tribute's back.

Looking back at the camp, he could see Sonny standing over Saerah, axe in hand as she walloped against the machete. Soryn pulled his shortsword from Philyp's back as the next stoke of Sonny's axe knocked the blade from Saerah's grip.

Philyp's screams of pain garnered his partner's attention, first looking at Philyp, then at Soryn. "No!" she screamed as she rushed Soryn.

Running to meet her halfway, Soryn caught her axe inches from his face. Sliding her weapon to the side and ducked when she swung at him again. The girl brought her elbow down, slamming herself against his shoulder as she dropped to the ground on top of him.

Soryn felt her axe clank against his sheath. When she raised it up for another strike, Soryn drove his knuckles into her throat, stunning her long enough for him to wriggle out of her grip.

A wild axe swing nearly clipped Soryn's knee as he jumped back from retrieving his weapon. Sonny's attacks became more wild and careless as she recovered, but served no purpose except to tell Soryn exactly how far she could reach.

Another downward swing.

Soryn scooped up his other blade and caught her strike again and rolled back, pressing his foot against her stomach, depriving her of her weapon.

Cursing under her breath, Sonny pulled a knife from her boot and began to lunge at Soryn as he recovered.

Then Saerah drove the machete into her back

With the cannon sounding twice in close succession, District Three was no longer a competitor for this year. Glancing at bodies, Philyp's dead eyes seemed to stare back with resignation and sorrow of his last moments. Briefly, Soryn regretted not dispatching him faster.

Saerah limped to Soryn's side, battered, bruised, and bloody from her fight with Sonny.

"I'm fine." she said as Soryn looked her over, making note of the gash on her leg. Apart from that, nearly everything else was superficial. It might leave a scar, but a quick cleanup would prevent anything else.

"Nylia, come patch her up." he said, looking up as the hovercraft's searchlights illuminated the forest.

With some hesitation, the girl scrambled to treat Saerah's injuries while Soryn relieved the dead tributes of their equipment. He would take inventory in the morning.

"A-are y-y-you okay, Soryn?" Nylia asked.

Looking at his knee, Soryn shook his head with a tired smile. "Not even a scratch."

The hovercraft lingered overhead as it retrieved the corpses. Its sudden departure plunged them into darkness.

"We need to move out." Soryn said, tossing Philyp's sword aside.

"B-b-but Saerah-" Nylia began.

"We just took out the top scoring tribute. If they have any sense, everyone else is going to be on our tail in short order to take us out."

The words had come out harsher than he had intended. Taking a deep breath, he resumed.

"Make sure she's patched up well and hope that they can't track us."

Soryn packed up while Nylia finished treating Saerah's wounds. In short order, they were on the move, putting as much distance they could between them and whatever hunters would be gathering at their old camp.

Mentally reviewing the list of tributes, Soryn softly sighed with a smirk. Only six tributes were left. And with Phylip and Sonny gone, two of the greatest obstacles were out of the way.

Victory finally seemed more than just a fantasy.

/-\\\


	15. Chapter 15

"_[REDACTED]!"_

_"That's one way of putting it."_

_"I thought for sure that was going to go the other way."_

_"If the noises in the other room are any indicator, everyone else thought that as well."_

_"What does that mean for your other tribute?"_

_"I think that depends on the Gamemakers."_

\- A Conversation between Victors Katriena Mellaghen and Craim Londergan_  
_  
Day Twenty-Nine

Soryn led Saerah and Nylia through the woods at a slow pace. Saerah had been limping along ever since their brush with Philyp and Sonny. While quiet, the woods had an eerie quality. The trees were further apart than it was to the north and south. Fog blanketed the ground and clung to the trees.

"Hey, can we stop?" Saerah asked.

"What's wrong?" replied Soryn.

"Nothing. I just need to sit for a little. The wound's acting up."

"Okay." Soryn said, rolling his shoulders back. "We'll just have to find somewhere that's out of the way."

Climbing a nearby tree, Soryn looked for an ideal resting place. He recognized some of the landmarks from his earlier explorations. Finding a camp would not be that difficult, even if their pace was slow.

"Soryn!" Nylia called out, nearly causing him to lose balance.

Saerah had collapsed, barely being caught by Nylia before she hit the ground. The smaller girl eased her to the ground while Soryn practically jumped out of the tree.

"What happened?" Saerah groaned.

"You just fell down." Soryn replied. "How's your head?"

"I feel fine."

"I spotted where we need to go." He said, helping Saerah back to her feet. "Lean on me."

"I'm fine!" she growled.

"You just collapsed. I think you're just a bit past 'fine' now."

She winced as they stepped forward. "Where are we going?"

"A cave I made use of before. Just hang on. We'll get your wound patched up."

Traveling as fast as they could they followed Soryn's lead, reaching the cave as a downpour began. After setting Saerah down, he set up the camouflage for their shelter while Nylia inspected the wound again.

"It's n-not inf-f-fected." She said.

"Poison?"

Nylia nodded her affirmation.

There was no way they could have been more careful. They had done well enough not to have been killed. Even if Philyp and Sonny had been weakened, they were still the toughest tributes when they had started out. He should not have been surprised that others would be finding different ways to fight.

He could not help Camille all those years ago. He had no intentions of failing her sister as well. Time was against them.

"I'm going to scout out area again." He said. "I need to know what we can use out there."

/-\\\

Day Thirty

The sun shone brightly on the arena as it made its ascent into clear skies. Soryn wiped the sweat collecting at his brow. He never really liked humidity and the sticky feeling it left him. He paused to look at the sky where a message blinked in the sky.

Thirty days. A full month since the Seventh Hunger Games began.

Saerah's condition had deteriorated quickly. Even with their combined knowledge, they had only slowed whatever it was that Philyp and Sonny had scrounged up. He had heard of things like this happening, but seeing it up close...

If anything was going to help her, it would be whatever the Capitol had on hand, as much as Soryn hated to admit. The problem was that even the most basic goods would cost a fortune, let alone any life-saving antidote, especially so far into the Games. More than whatever number of sponsors they had accrued could afford.

Unless the Gamemakers felt extraordinarily generous, they would have get themselves out of the arena for her treatment. That would mean forcing a confrontation, and soon.

His pondering was halted when he spotted a pair of tracks in the mud. "Sloppy." Soryn thought, scratching his chin in contemplation. Two people of roughly the same weight had passed through recently enough that the rain had not washed the tracks away. Soryn followed the trail until it faded away in a nearby creek.

Jett was considerably lighter than Gaius and Ruby, which meant that it was likely just the two of them. Other possibilities came to mind, but none of them seemed likely enough to explain the absence of the missing member of Gaius' group.

Slinking into the foliage, Soryn made his way back to the cave, making several loops and turns to make sure no one could follow him.

His arrival was acknowledged by Nylia, who accepted his delivery with silent thanks.

"How's she holding up?" Soryn asked, leaning against the granite.

"Sh-she's s-s-stable. M-mos-s-stly."

"But not perfect. Can she walk again?"

"Yes." Saerah hissed, sitting up. "I can."

"I-I-I don't think y-you should."

"I'm not sure we have much of a choice." said Soryn. "Gaius and Ruby are somewhere close by, and I'd rather we take care of them sooner, rather than later."

Saerah rubbed the back of her head as she pinned her hair in a ponytail. "Wouldn't our moving around draw their attention?"

"Staying here could be just as dangerous. We'd be backed into a corner."

"Then let's go." She said, rising to her feet with gritted teeth. "I'm sick of waiting around."

/-\\\

Walking in silence, the three of them eyed the forest with nervous anticipation. Saerah winced with each step, but pressed forward anyways despite the pain. The crowd of trees opened into a large, barren field that overlooked some of the arena. In the distance light glinted off of the bronze coloured structure. Blackened scars smeared across the landscape where the forest had been burned.

Stepping into the middle of the field, Soryn drove a dagger into the dirt, turning to face his others as they gathered around. "This is where we'll make our stand." he declared. "All of us want to go home, right? The way I see it, we set up some sort of beacon to lure them into a confrontation."

"Wouldn't that bring everyone to us?" asked Saerah.

"Yes. But they'll be coming onto our turf, and on our terms. Also, there are only six of us left: the three of us, Gaius and Ruby, and there hasn't been any sign of Jett for several days now, meaning that he is likely on his own, leaving us with a numerical advantage as well as the element of surprise."

"If they are coming here they will know something is up."

"True, but so far the only one of us they have really encountered before is me, which was at close range. They won't be expecting all three of us to attack from a distance."

"Why would they fall for something like this in the first place?"

"Their stockpile of supplies is gone, and there is only so much that can be supplied by sponsors at this point, so they will be eager to finish us off before they starve."

"So what do we do?"

"Gather wood and anything else we can find that burns and make enough smoke that so it can be seen for miles around."

"What if they don't come? In case you haven't noticed, there's been several fires lately."

"They'll come."

"How can you be so sure?"

"The last thing anyone wants is for someone to be taken out by an infection, so even if they don't want to come here, odds are that they will be forced to come here."

"And if they bring something else with them?" 

"Let's hope we can take out our actual opponents before we're overrun." 

"But-" 

"We can do this, Saerah." Soryn said, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.  
Saerah's grimace eased up, reverting to a focused stare. "The element of surprise will last only until I take the first shot. The other won't wait for me to put them down." 

"But that will still be one less than before. Anything else?"

Both girls shook their heads.

Then let's get to work."

By the time the sun began its descent, they had accumulated an impressive amount of brush. All three of them had made repeated trips into the woods, each time returning with dead branches and greenery. 

"Okay, we're good" Soryn announced to his allies as he hopped off the stack.

"D-d-do you think-k that it w-will b-b-burn after all-l the r-rain?" Nylia stuttered.

Soryn pulled out a bottle form his pack, holding it up for her to see. "Still have some of this leftover. Where's Saerah?"

Saerah was nowhere in sight. While Soryn began trying to think of where she could be, a scream echoed through the forest. Soryn sprinted into the woods, leaving Nylia trailing behind him.

"Not again." Soryn growled under his breath.

/-\\\

Saerah sat on a wooden stump a short distance away field. All of the branches she had gathered laid in a pile at her feet. The tremors had had become too difficult to hide anymore. Relaxing was impossible, so she wandered around for a while until her tremors eased. She was barely able to stand up straight anymore. Symptoms she was all too familiar with.

She had seen miners succumb to what initially appeared to be a harmless snake bite. No one really had a name for them, but judging by the effects of its venom, it was undoubtedly a mutt made in the Capitol labs.

Unlike natural snakes, the venom took a long time before the victim's heart finally stopped. It would begin as mild discomfort with some light tremors which would slowly build up to agonizing pain and uncontrollable muscle spasms. In a few days the victim would be paralyzed and sweating blood, after which the victim's contracting muscles crushed them.

She had seen all sorts of people to fall because of it, but no matter how big or resilient, the end result was always the same, and there was nothing that could be done.

The fact that Soryn and Nylia had accomplished what they had was a miracle, but it was unlikely that the Capitol would let her off so easily when they could arrange a more gruesome death.

Soryn had come up with a good plan, the way it was laid out meant the three of them stood a good chance of surviving. Normally that was a good thing, but here it meant that they would be forced to kill each other. She knew that after all they had gone through they would not be able to do it.

As much as she wanted to see her family again, Soryn and Nylia stood a better chance of surviving, and she knew that Soryn would not be so amoral to kill either of them without provocation.

Getting off her stump, she ventured into the forest to find berries. Not for nutritious eating. Nightlock berries were fatal, but they provided a quick, painless death. Not the way she had always planned going out, put it was definitely preferable to the alternatives.

After she had filled her pocket with berries, the sound of rustling leaves reached her ears. It was not very loud; in fact she could barely hear it. She considered calling out to Soryn or Nylia, but thought better of it.

Whatever it was, she did not want to alert a possible enemy to her presence, and she definitely did not want to face it in a confined space. She quietly moved towards a large clearing, hoping she could sneak around the stalker, but the clearing opened out into an overlook. The collapsed portion of the arena.

The ambush sight was not too far according to some of the landmarks she had spotted earlier, but there was no other way to get to it without venturing out into the woods.  
She turned around and saw a shadow lurking in the trees, with its eyes fixated on her. Saerah quickly drew her bowstring back. The creature hardly seemed to react; instead, it began to slink towards the clearing.

When it finally emerged from the shadows of the trees, it took a moment for to recognize humanoid shape as Jett.

His hair was disheveled, with some patches missing. From head to toe, he was covered in dirt, burns, and dried blood, some of which crusted around his mouth, His tattered clothes hung over his hunched-over frame like a scarecrow, showing the effects of malnutrition. His eyes were wild with animalistic glee, a predator eager for his next meal.

The two of them stood, watching each other's slightest movements.

Saerah winced as pain lanced up from her leg, letting loose her arrow, nearly hitting her target as he jumped into the nearest tree. Without hesitation, she fired another arrow, hitting exactly where Jett had been a moment earlier.

As he disappeared, Saerah held off firing another shot. The branches stopped shaking for a moment, giving the forest an unnerving silence.

In a blur of motion, Jett dropped from the trees and charged. Saerah fired three shots in quick succession. Zigzagging, he dodged the first two, but the third arrow connected, catching him in the right side of his chest.

Seemingly unaffected, Jett carried his momentum and smashed into Saerah, knocking her bow from her hands. As they both fell to the ground, Saerah rolled backwards and let him fly over her, he leg protesting the weight, and went to retrieve her bow.

Before her fingers could grasp the weapon, Jett kicked her over and began to savagely punch her. In desperation, Saerah grabbed at the arrow and kicked out, her foot connecting with his groin, stunning him long enough to get away.

While Jett stumbled around and snapped the shaft protruding from his chest, Saerah rolled to her feet, kneeing Jett in the face as he came at her again, grabbing her bow and readying another arrow. He quickly lunged at her, knocking her bow to the side, sending the arrow into the dirt.

With renewed vigor, Jett scrambled on top of her, clawing at her face. Growing impatient, Jett realized that he still had a knife on his belt and stabbed Saerah in the stomach, smiling maniacally as Saerah screamed in pain.

When he raised the knife up to stab again, Saerah kneed him in the stomach, giving herself a brief respite and an opening as Jett recovered. Saerah punched him in the face with enough force to spin him around, but despite all of the damage she had inflicted, Jett was hardly slowing down and came at her again, lunging forward.

Despite his increased physical resistance, his cognitive processes were not all there. Stretching that far out was a rookie mistake, even with what little training she had, but it was enough to for Saerah to snap Jett's two main fingers as she wrested the knife from his grip and dislocated his shoulder for good measure.

After a moment of disorientation, Jett realized what had happened, snarling in rage as he re-inserted his shoulder back into place by smashing it against a tree.  
Saerah braced herself with her newly acquired knife in as Jett came after her again, cutting him across his left temple before he knocked her to the ground and gripped his hands around her throat.

Reaching into her pocket, she grabbed a handful of berries and punched Jett in the face twice, breaking his nose and several of his teeth, and shoved the berries into his mouth and pressed his jaw closed while pinching his nose.

Jett snapped backwards, slapping Saerah across the face as he squirmed out of her grip. Jett turned to face Saerah, readying for another attack. As he pressed his feet against the dirt for another lunge, he fell to the ground, with berry juice trickling from his mouth. The cannon sounded. Jett was dead.

For a minute, the woods were quiet. Not even the birds were singing anymore. Soryn came crashing through the woods into the clearing with swords drawn. When he saw Saerah, he rushed to her side.

"I'm sorry I wandered off like that" Saerah said weakly.

"What were you doing out here?" asked Soryn, failing to mask his worry.

"Looking for berries, but I think Jett ate them all" Saerah replied, pointing at Jett's corpse. Soryn checked the body, finding it devoid of any supplies and pulled Saerah away for the hovercraft.

"Why were you looking for nightlock?"

"We're currently winning. If you're plan works like you think it will, that means it will only the three of us"

"That's a good thing."

"There can only be one victor, Soryn. You know that. If we all survive, we'll be forced to kill each other. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't be able to face that"

"We'll figure that out when we get there-"

"I'm not going to make it, Soryn"

Soryn looked at the knife wound and the growing pool of blood that Saerah was laying in. "I'm sorry" Soryn said, trying to force away tears.

"It wasn't your fault" replied Saerah.

He wanted to say something, but no words formed.

"Do you remember what you said the night before the Games? Having no regrets?"

Soryn nodded mournfully.

"I forgive you. You don't need to carry that with you anymore."

Saerah coughed out a mouthful of blood.

"No." Soryn pleaded.

"You take good care of her." she said, nodded to Nylia.

"I-"

Grabbing Soryn by his collar, she pulled herself close. "Don't let them change you, Soryn."

She tried to touch his face, but her strength failed and she fell limp against Soryn. The sound of the cannon was drowned out by the approach of the hovercraft. Nylia pulled against his arm as it approached, drawing Jett up with a metal claw.

"Clear the area, tribute!" the loudspeaker blared.

Glancing up at the hovercraft, Soryn grabbed the bow and placed it in Saerah's arms. She had carried it since the beginning, it would be fitting for her to take it away from the arena as well.

Leaving the scene of battle behind them, Soryn and Nylia walked back to the field in solemn silence.


	16. Chapter 16

"_This won't do."_

_"...come again?"_

_"Having Tributes break down in the Arena like this. I find it unsightly. And it's not like he hasn't seen someone killed before."_

_"Tribute or not, he's still a child."_

_"Child or not, we need him back in business."_

_"Sir, the hardest element to control is the human one. If a kid finally snaps, there's not much we can do."_

_"Is that so? Then why don't we make him snap back."_

_\- Conversation between Iacchus Agrippa and Ciro_

Day Thirty-One

Pacing back and forth, Nylia waited for Soryn to move again. She had woken up to him sitting next to the pile, despondent. Both breakfast and lunch had passed without him so much as taking a sip of water.

"W-w-what are w-we going t-t-to do, Soryn-n?"

"I don't know." He answered with a sigh. "Don't really care much either."

"Wh-what about-t the plan?"

"The plan's a bust. It relied heavily on Saerah sniping one and us ganging up on the other. Saerah's not here anymore. And even if we had the bow still, neither of us had any practice with it."

"You always walked and talked like you knew everything. Maybe you do. But now you're just sitting and moping around, wasting all of it."

The slap came as a surprise, the crack of her hand meeting his face echoing in his ear.

"What was that for?!" Soryn shouted, suddenly angry.

With a fire in her eyes, Nylia shouted back. "Would you look at yourself? Saerah would be ashamed to see you like this. Would Saerah want to see you just give up? You look like a sick animal waiting to be put down. Is that all you amount to now?"

Getting to his feet, Soryn was kicked to the ground.

"It'd be easy, even for me, to kill you right now." She said, pulling out a knife.

In an instant, Soryn was back on his feet and smashing his shoulder into her chest. Gripping the collar of her shirt with one hand, he picked up the knife with the other, holding it close to her neck.

"Do it." She wheezed.

Hesitating, he glared into her eyes. The matted blade hovering just above her arteries. Soryn pulled away, dropping both Nylia and the knife as he staggered back, breathing heavily. Sinking to the ground, he shoved his head into his hands, scratching his scalp.

Slowly approaching Soryn, Nylia crouched next to him, rubbing his back. "For a moment it looked like you were going to actually follow through."

"For a moment I thought I would." He replied, taking in a deep breath.

"What's that?" said Nylia pointing to a column of smoke.

Soryn looked in the direction she was pointing and sighed. Fires on the horizon. The Gamemakers must have gotten tired of waiting on them.

"We better get into position." He said. "They'll be here any moment."

"Do you think we can do it?"

"I guess we'll have to find out."

Dusting himself off, he helped Nylia to her feet.

"So why didn't you do it?" she asked.

Blinking, he looked up to the sky. All those people who had seen him nearly kill his partner. Natalyne had seen that outburst, too. That would take some time to smooth over. "I've failed enough times already. I can't fail because of my own stupidity."

"I think it's because you're a nice."

"I'm really not."

"Yes you are. You had plenty of chances to abandon us, stab us in the back. You could have turned us down helping us in the first place, or lied about it and never show up."

"That doesn't make me nice."

Any further debate was cut off by Nylia grabbing Soryn in a firm hug, pressing her ear against his chest. Relaxing his shoulders, he brushed her hair, like the cold nights by the fire with Natalyne.

"Look out!" screamed Nylia, shoving Soryn out of the way of an incoming spear.

Soryn looked at Nylia as a familiar dark red spread across her clothes. The spear had cut across her stomach; a glancing blow compared to what would have happened to him if she had not shoved him out of the way, but still serious if left untreated and.

In the distance, Ruby unslung her battle-axe and sprinted towards them. Soryn drew his swords and moved to meet her.

Ruby's first swing cut through the air and nothing else. Instead of holding on to her weapon, she let the axe go flying and jumped over Soryn as he cut low. She quickly drew her knife and began slashing at Soryn in a string of furious movements while he deflected or evaded every stroke.

When it seemed like she had exerted all of her energy, Soryn went on the offensive, driving his opponent back. Before he realized what was happening, Ruby rolled onto her back, grabbing her ax, sheathing her knife, and rolling back onto her feet and attacked with renewed vigor.

Between the Ruby's arm length and length of the axe, Soryn did not dare to get closer. With no other option, Soryn dodged the edge of her axe while trying to come up with a plan.

Intercepting the swing with his swords, for a moment, the two locked eyes. With a sadistic smile, Ruby shoved him backwards, kicking him in the midsection and knocking his swords out of his hands.

As she raised her axe above Soryn's head, a rock hit her in the shoulder, distracting her for a moment while Soryn scurried off. By the time Ruby looked back, Soryn was well out of her reach again.

Ruby chuckled. "You're pretty lucky; I can see how you've survived so long." she said as she pulled her knife from her belt. "Let's see if your friend is as fast as you are."

Time seemed to slow as the knife twirled in the air, sailing towards its target and burying itself in Nylia's chest.

Screaming in berserk rage, Soryn rushed at Ruby. Ruby whirled around, swinging her axe. Catching the axe in his midsection, with the blade missing his flesh by a fraction of an inch, he wrested it from Ruby's grasp.

As she reached for weapons that were no longer in her possession, Soryn hefted the axe and discarded it, deeming it too heavy. The two began circling around, poised to strike.

Ruby moved first, throwing her full weight behind her first attack. Dropping to the ground, he kicked her in the stomach and rolled back to his feet. The two charged at each other, weaving in and out of their respective ranges, with neither gaining an advantage over the other.

Even though her movements were somewhat clumsy, the speed and weight she threw behind her punches wore against Soryn's hands as he deflected them.

When an opening presented itself, he rushed forward, cupping his hand against her right ear and rolling under her attempt to elbow him in the back. Neither of their energy reserves were infinite, but she was exerting herself more.

Edging around, Soryn looked for a sign that confirmed his theory, when a series of fireballs sent the two of them scurrying for cover. Trees splintered into flaming matchwood, raining debris across the field.

Gaius broke into view of the clearing with bits of his clothing singed, coughing and patting himself over. Catching sight of the battle, he moved to assist his ally, dodging fireballs along the way.

A large burning tree collapsed into his path, spreading a wall of fire and ash, cutting him off. Taking a moment to look around, Gaius looked at Ruby through the flames, shaking his head as he turned around to retreat.

"Get back here, Gaius." She yelled, but he had already slipped back into the woods.

Screaming in fury at being abandoned, Ruby rushed Soryn, grabbing him and slamming him into the ground. As he recovered, Ruby jumped on him, beating him senseless.  
Struggling against the weight of his opponent, Soryn managed to hit her between swings, knocking out a couple of teeth. Ruby grabbed both of his wrists and smashed her head against his and moved her hands around his throat.

"Not like this." Soryn thought.

Shoving his fingers underneath Ruby's hands, he tried to pry them away, gaining a breath of oxygen before being backhanded across the face when she reaffixed her grip.

As his vision faded out, Ruby's grip froze, then loosened. His sight soon returned to him as more oxygen reached his brain. Ruby slumped to the ground with a knife buried in her right eye.

Sliding Ruby's limp form to the side, Soryn sat up a saw Nylia breathing heavily and kneeling in a pool of blood. Soryn dragged himself below the level of the smoke as explosions shook the ground to her side.

A quick look around and it was apparent that the only way out would be off the cliff and if Nylia did not get help soon, she would be the next person the cannon sounded for, but all of their medical supplies were most likely now ash, so that left few options on hand. Soryn looked around as the flames closed in around them.

Suddenly, Soryn got an idea. He had only seen it done successfully once or twice. He might actually be doing more harm than good, but the alternative was to let Nylia bleed out. "This going to hurt, but it will stop the bleeding until I can fix it properly."

Grabbing a piece of smoldering wood, he pressed it against the wound. Despite holding it in for a short while, Nylia let out an agonized scream.

Soryn scooped up Nylia and leapt off the cliff as it exploded behind him. As the two landed in the water below, the impact tore her from his grip. Soryn immediately got his bearings and followed the river's flow towards her as she tumbled along the current.

Navigating past rocks, Soryn grabbed her and pulled her ashore. While attending to Nylia, he glanced at the cliffside as the cannon heralded Ruby's heart finally coming to a stop.

"Took you long enough." Soryn muttered to himself, returning his attention to Nylia. "Did you hear that, Nylia? There's only three of us left. You just have to hold on a little longer and then you can go home."

"I'm not going to be able to go home." she replied.

"Don't talk like that." he retorted, keeping his voice as level as possible. "Sure you are, we just-"

"There's nothing else you can do about that now. I would have to be on my way to a genuine hospital if I was going to survive." Nylia smiled weakly. "It looks like it's all up to you now."

Soryn brushed her hair out of her face. "I wish it didn't have to end like this."

Cringing, she coughed out a mixture of blood and water. "Soryn, what happens when we die?"

"I don't know. I've never been there myself."

Smiling, with tears in her eyes, she hugged Soryn. "I think I understand what you meant."

"About what?"

"You're not nice. But I think you're still good person. I don't care what you think, or what anyone else says, just remember that."

"Just take it easy; you'll be out of this nightmare soon"

The cannon sounded once more. Soryn gently closed her eyes and gathered up her gear and watched as she was lifted into the hovercraft and disappeared in the distance. The birds began to sing again; a sad melody to commemorate Nylia's memory.

For all the time since the destruction of his home, he had been merely existing, barely surviving. And not doing very well at it, either; hurling himself at threats again and again with reckless abandon. His life had been a hollow one, lingering in the past.

There was no running away from the Capitol and the scars it had left on him, and everyone else in the districts. He had no intention wallowing in despair either. His allies, his friends, as strange as it felt to think of them as such. They had given their lives to help him. Their efforts were the reason he was still alive. He would live on for their sakes, but he would do more than just survive.

He stopped himself short. Entertaining such notions would have to wait. He was still in the arena. Still at the mercies of the Gamemakers. And there was one tribute standing between him and his victory.

When the birds had finished their melody, Soryn's mind returned to the task ahead.

One last grave to fill, and then he could move forward.


	17. Chapter 17

"Now what? He has recovered much better than we expected."

"That problem is more easily rectified."

"...You seem distracted."

"I've been given an assignment."

"I thought you had left the Coats a long time ago."

"A special request from President Valerii himself."

"Dare I ask what?"

"Let's just say that there is an irritating itch that is quite insistent on being scratched."

\- Conversation between Calliste Auriel and Iacchus Agrippa

Day Thirty-Two

Backtracking to the cliffside had been more time-consuming than Soryn would have thought. Blackened trees had been toppled over in a crisscross fashion. Soot and ash mixed with the morning dew in a thick layer on the ground, clumping against his shoes as he hiked on.

The plateau was hardly any different. The bonfire they had set up had been consumed. Bits of melted plastics marked where the packs had been left. To his relief, the weapons were intact, albeit with some damage sustained. The grips on the handle were gone, but they still sat well in his hands.

A patch of dried blood marked the spot were Ruby had died. The Gamemakers probably had suppressed the fires so the retrieval team could clean up. If not for the aftermath, the place seemed rather serene. He shook himself from his musings.

He had to restock on other supplies, namely his throwing knives. Another problem with fires was that he could not use the trees to cover the distance faster. As he walked, the black and grey turned over to green in a contrasting boundary.

When nightfall had overtaken him, he had just reached one of his caches he had set up. Remembering the other contents, he plucked out a bottle of purified water. The canteen he had had on his belt had been rendered useless after the fight with Ruby. The contents wasted and the vessel ruined, he had done without during his hike. To his silent thanks, the cooler weather had not drained too much out of him, but the touch of water in his mouth, no matter how stagnant, was an immense relief; a clear sign of his dehydration.

Nestling in for the night, he looked to the sky. No new casualties to announce. With two remaining tributes, they would force a confrontation, and they would have to go along with it.

The tranquility was shattered by the sound of heralds. Scrambling onto a nearby branch, Soryn's eyes shot up to the skies. There was no one to make eye contact with, but he still felt compelled to do so as Calliste Auriel's voice filled the night.

"Greetings, Tributes. Congratulations on making this far."

A pause hung in the air, building up the anticipation.

"In light of the recent changes, a Feast has been declared. Both remaining competitors are advised to return to the Cornucopia. Food and water will be provided, as will other amenities that you are in pressing need of."

"Pressing need of?" Soryn thought. He did not think he had been outright poisoned, nor was he particularly short on anything. He had even managed to avoid any form of injury throughout the entire ordeal.

"I recommend heading to the designated point as soon as possible." she continued. "Your competition may not be as generous as we are."

Day Thirty-Three

Clambering down from the tree, Soryn stepped next to the river he had used. The clear water had taken a sickly brown color overnight. He mentally thanked himself for gathering some the night before.

"I guess there's nothing for it." Soryn said to himself.

Dispensing with the non-essentials from his pack, he began his march to the Cornucopia with a sense of foreboding. The feeling was exasperated by the clouds gathering overhead. Soryn smiled inwardly at the dramatic flair of the Gamemakers.

Emerging from the woods, he surveyed the clearing around the Cornucopia. The grass had come up in some areas, giving the field an unkempt look. Leaning against the side of the Cornucopia, Gaius was adorned in a strange looking armor and cradled his sword over his shoulder.

"So you finally decided to show up." He said, looking off in the distance in contemplation.

"I got here as quickly as I could." Soryn replied, unsheathing his blades.

"You just got here and you're already spoiling for fight. I'm happy to oblige." Tossing his scabbard, he pointed the tip of the blade at Soryn. "It's too bad we have to kill each other. I would really like to know how you managed to beat Philyp and Sonny."

"You're rather certain that I'm the one who did them in."

"I can't think of anyone else who could have really stood a decent chance against them, especially against both of them at the same time. And you held against Ruby pretty well, too. Must have been quite a fight."

"Not really."

A flicker of disappointment danced in Gaius' eyes, but was quickly shaken away. "Your stance is pretty good. I bet you've gotten plenty of practice the last few weeks."

Soryn stepped forward. "Less than you might think."

"I may not know how you got your score, but the fact that you're standing here means I have no reason to take you lightly."

"Good. Are you ready for this?"

"I was always ready."

Soryn moved first, sprinting towards his adversary.

Chuckling, Gaius twirled his sword around in his hand and raised his sword to meet Soryn. The two locked blades. As Gaius began to push back, Soryn swept below, slashing at his leg.

Barely flinching, Gaius spun around and kicked Soryn. Rolling away to mitigate the force of the blow, and dodging Gaius' blade as he came down on him, Soryn got back to his feet, kicking where had just slashed him on the way up, forcing Gaius to one knee.  
Taking a moment, he inspected the minimal gash in his armor before charging at Soryn again.  
Righting himself, Soryn grabbed a handful of dirt and lobbed it at Gaius' face. Raising his arm, Gaius blindly blocked Soryn's thrust, twirling around to elbow him in the head.

Staggering, Soryn turned to face his opponent again. The clouds withheld their threat of rain, rumbling overhead.

"Glad you've got some fire in you." He shouted. "But you can do better. Come on, make this worth my time."

Aggravated, Soryn spat at the ground. The armor made most of his usual forms of attack useless, and he could not put enough force to rend the material around the joints without leaving himself open to Gaius' counters. Aiming for his uncovered head was just as risky.

Throwing a pair of knives, Soryn watched as Gaius handedly deflected them. Making note of his movements, he sheathed one sword and pulled out another knife and charged. Just out of Gaius' reach, he slung the knife underhanded to his neck.

Anticipating the attack, Gaius switched sword hands and blocked the knife with his arm, blocking Soryn's strike. He barely had time to react to Soryn drawing another knife. Tucking his shoulder against his neck, the blade grazed the pauldron, redirecting it against his ear instead.

Grinning, Gaius wiped the blood welling from the wound. "Nice one." With a deep breath, he lunged at Soryn, driving him back once more.

Soryn barely reacted in time to avoid having his stomach slashed open, hopping back and sliding underneath Gaius swings as he edged to the tree line. Every swing either hammered against his defenses or carried into the follow-up.

His opponent made a steady transition to close quarters, nearly dashing Soryn's plans. In the midst of his quick recoveries, Gaius found his sword lodged into a tree. Without hesitation, Soryn rolled up close, ducking under a quick punch. While pinning Gaius' sword arm with one blade, he drove the other at the nearest weak point between the plates of armor.

Gripping the blade, Gaius slowed the attack to negligible effect. Violently pulling his arm away from the tree, he flung the weapon from Soryn's hand, quickly liberating his own blade.

As he turned back, he instinctively raised his arm to block a knife aimed for his head. Just as quickly, he leaped at Soryn, making him retreat from his lost weapon. In a flurry of swings, he pressed Soryn further into the woods, taking care to avoid his earlier mistakes.

Minus a weapon, Soryn danced just beyond the tip of his foe's blade, sparing only the occasional tap to keep him at bay as he thought up his next move.

Dropping to his knees under Gaius' sword, Soryn darted to the side behind the nearest tree, staying on the opposite side, bouncing back and forth as Gaius tried to get to him. Committing to one side, he raised his blade to his defense, chucking the handful of dirt at Gaius' face.

Raising his arm defensively, Gaius stepped back, leaning against the nearest tree to his left and swung wide around himself. Blinking out the dirt from his eyes, he looked around for his opponent.

Almost in a panic, he searched for Soryn. The tracks he had left were inconclusive and the ambient noise in the arena made it difficult to listen for him, leaving him with only his sight to track him down.

With each step, the more certain he was that his opponent would get the jump on him. Circling around, he found Soryn's other blade still where it had fallen before. Breathing a quick sigh of relief, he planted himself above the weapon. "Do you want your sword back?" he called out.

Silence.

A stirring in the branches drew his attention above him, wind blowing through the trees. His suspicion veered upward to the rustling leaves. Subconsciously, he lifted his sword, clipping the dagger in the nick of time.

"So that's where you went." said Gaius. "I guess I should have expected that."  
Straining his eyes, he could see Soryn perched on a high branch, twirling a throwing knife. His eyes grim as he watched the other tribute from relative safety.

"So, what are we going to here?" Gaius asked. "Stand around and jab at each other with our wits?"

"A bit safer than what I was doing a minute ago." Soryn shouted back.

"You'll have to come back down here eventually."

"Fine by me. You can't keep standing there either."

Each holding their respective positions, they stared at each other. Minutes ticked by, but neither seemed intent on making another move against the other.

Finally, Soryn let out a sigh. "I'm bored. Why don't we break off for a while?"

Before Gaius could protest, Soryn had vanished from sight. Gaius winced. He was in no position to force the boy to stay. The wince turned into a smile. "Clever." He muttered to himself.

The tree canopy gave Soryn a clear view of him and quite the array of avenues of attack. In all likelihood, he would not allow him back to the area he could tip the balance back to his favor.

Staying in the same spot carried the same disadvantages. The material the armor was made out of had saved him plenty during their duel already, but it would be useless if he fell asleep or became too tired to react to Soryn's assaults.

Gaius spat aside, picking up the short-sword. He had unknowingly bumbled into his opponent's preferred environment. Even so, he had no intention of waiting to be finished off. If he did not come back of his own accord, the Gamemakers would force them back to blows.

/-\\\

Soryn slumped against the tree, balancing himself on the branch. The fighting had done a number on him. The places where Gaius had landed blows were slightly sore. He could only imagine what they would feel like once the adrenaline wore off. Even so, he still needed a moment to catch his breath and plan his next move. The Gamemakers were sure to act if the lull lingered.

Gaius had more than met Soryn head-on. The armor he was wearing had proved immensely infuriating. He had never heard of anything being both extremely flexible and resilient. Something the Capitol had probably drummed up to draw out the fight. Granted, it probably helped that his own method of fighting revolved around slashing weak point, which were few thanks to Gaius' armor, and he had easily blocked every other attack aimed at his head.

Adjusting himself, Soryn saw his foe wandering around ground below him. Keeping within the wooded area. Getting back up to his feet, he stepped to the next branch.

His movements halted when he instinctively tensed up. Down below, Gaius did likewise. At first, Soryn thought a hovercraft was approaching, but if there was, it was lingering out of the range of hearing. When Soryn contemplated moving again, the familiar stench of smoke came to his nose.

Not seconds later, several nearby trees exploded, tipping and toppling over each other. Leaping to the next cluster of branches, Soryn avoided being caught in the explosion that enveloped his former hiding spot. He continued to scurry from branch to branch, trying to keep up with Gaius as he fled the storm of splinters and fire erupting all around them.

The fires spread through the canopy, filling the air with smoke. Begrudgingly, Soryn dropped next to his opponent, aiming for the base of his neck.

Once again, Gaius whirled around, this time using Soryn's weapon. The blow connected with his arm instead, smacking it out of his hand and leaving a slight gouge. Carrying his momentum, Gaius swung his sword at Soryn, stepping forward to kick the discarded weapon into a collection of burning shrubs.

Deflecting the stroke, Soryn flung another knife at the other tribute's face, only missing when the tribute backpedaled.

In minutes, the serene environment had become a hellish landscape, raining embers and ashes on the two tributes as their clash continued. The battle began to wear on Soryn's mind, playing images of Widow's Peak burning as if to taunt him, break him.

His thoughts cleared at the sound of more trees collapsing. Disengaging Gaius, he jumped across the falling path of a one tree. The smoke was becoming thicker, reducing his visibility and choking the air.

While he was still able to get his bearings, he ran for the nearest escape from the flames, the ravine to the north. Gaius was quick to notice the direction that Soryn was heading and followed, weaving through the charred foliage.

A tree fell into Soryn's path, diverting him straight at Gaius. Taking the first move, Gaius stabbed at him and swung when his target dodged.

Hopping onto a relatively unburned tree, Soryn went about making his escape, only to nearly have his shoulder sliced open when Gaius jumped after him.

The two balanced themselves on the tree, steadily edging to safer grounds as the attacked edge other. The smoke and encroaching fires forced them onward to the ravine, fighting along the way as the arena was immolated behind them.

Stepping in front, Gaius slashed at Soryn, sliding his leg out. When he ducked, Gaius tripped him, pinning him down with a boot to his back. Sword raised, he prepared for the finishing strike. Instead, an errant fireball impacted against his back, igniting the armor.

Screaming in agony, he dropped down on his back, snuffing the flames in the dirt while Soryn scurried away.

Blade in hand, Soryn reached the cliffs overlooking one of the rivers. The clouds churned above them, threatening to rain at any moment. Looking to his flanks, the sides were blocked off. The only way of escape was forward. As he contemplated a way to climb down, an explosion echoed from the other side, lighting up the terrain for a brief moment. The results of the explosion became apparent when trees began falling towards the canyon, either bridging the gap or falling into it as Soryn evaded being crushed.

With little more than a clap of thunder to herald it, a torrential downpour fell on the arena. The fires were squelched in a great his of steam. Below him, the river swelled unnaturally fast, sweeping rocks and dirt in a sudden surge of water. Quickly glancing back, he could see Gaius approaching through the steam.

"Crap." Soryn muttered and climbed on top of the nearest fallen tree, balancing himself as he scooted along. The slickening surface made him wary of his advance.

"Turn around and fight me!" Gaius shouted.

Undaunted, he jumped on the tree to follow Soryn, quickly closing the distance, his sword at the ready to resume the fight.

Turning to face his opponent, Soryn drew his blade again, pointing it at his foe as he steadily scooted back.

Beneath them, the river churned the dirt into mud and tore soil from the shores and canyon walls.

When he had caught up, Gaius feigned his first strike. In his eyes, Soryn could see him fighting back the pain. Nonetheless, he continued the battle as before, keeping up the offensive and maintaining his balance, even as the bark became soaked.

A misstep led to Soryn nearly plummeting below. Grabbing one of the branches, he swung himself to the underside of the log and pulled himself up to cling on the underside. His sword washed away with the river, and he could feel a burning sensation in his hands. Weaponless, he inched onward.

Above him, Gaius slashed at the wood as he followed, unable to do more than tease at hitting his opponent's hands. The slow advance made for a tiring experience and the rain stung against his exposed back. Alongside them, the other impromptu bridges slipped down, crashing against the walls.

Soryn's fingers protested the crawling pace. Climbing up would not have been an option, even if Gaius was not waiting on top. If and when he got to the other side, he would have to make an escape. The throwing knives might be able to buy him some time, but Gaius was still armed and armored and still holding up well despite his injuries. He could flee and hope that he would be finished off by an infection, but that would not settle well with the Capitol.

What he needed was a respite. Find some more weapons and-

The midsection of the tree exploded behind them, severing their bridge and dropping them into the river. In the moments he had to react, Soryn hopped off, aiming for what he could see as the deepest part of the flood. He narrowed his profile, slashing into the river like a knife while Gaius rode one half of the tree until it hit the water, throwing him off.

Flanked on both sides by high earthen walls with nothing to grab onto, Soryn relaxed and let the current carry him until he found a root to latch onto.

Looking around, Soryn spotted Gaius trying to swim towards the non-existent shore, grabbing blindly for handholds that were not there.

Despite all other advantages that the other tributes may have had, few of them had ever been in water deeper than their bathtub, much less submerged, fully clothed, in a blinding rainstorm.

Soryn's brief moment of satisfaction vanished when Gaius bobbed in his direction. No ground to climb up to, he could only wait for the inevitable as he smashed into him, dragging the two of them along the current.

Breaking apart, Soryn shoved Gaius away with a kick as the other boy choked out water, disappearing under the surface again and again, flailing wildly for something to hold onto, something Soryn guided himself from repeating the role.

Water flushed into the raving from the cliff tops, showering them with debris as the river carried them to the lower portions of the arena.

The river fell to an incline, revealing a chasm opening in the center of the arena where the rivers joined, swallowing everything the rivers poured into it.  
Maneuvering away from the rocks, Soryn guided himself to the pit, readying himself to jump. Smacking against the rocks behind him, Gaius had managed to keep himself upright and see where they were going, frantically grabbing at the rocks in futile hope of escape.

When he fell over the edge, Soryn dove in, hoping that enough water had collected to break his fall.


	18. Chapter 18

When Soryn resurfaced, he crawled for the nearest shore of the dimly lit cave. Above him, what had been the bottom of the river had opened, the doors folding inward. With how little water there was, Soryn guessed there was a drainage system pumping the water to other parts of the arena, possibly even back at the tops of the rivers.

A loud roar echoed in the cave as Gaius pulled himself ashore, tearing the armor covering his upper half off and tossing aside. An angry burn had splotched across his back, blood trickling from the wound that had seared his flesh.

Soryn reached for his throwing knife, only to find his belt empty. His sword lost in the river, Gaius was equally unarmed. He quickly noticed his presence and trudged through the shallows to the center island, pointing at him.

"Two of us are still alive, Soryn." Gaius called out. "Let's finish this."

Begrudgingly, Soryn waded through the pools to him. The other tribute stepped to his side of the island, fists raised.

"Show me what you've got!" he bellowed, lunging forward.

Sidestepping the attack, Soryn smacked the back of his hand against the burn, causing Gaius to yelp as he whirled around.

Sliding around him, Soryn kicked at the back of his knee, forcing him to kneel. Jumping up, Soryn kicked at Gaius with both of his legs, staggering the boy.

Gaius got up and sprinted to the opposite side of the cave, rushing past Soryn as he evaded him. It took a moment for Soryn to realize what he was racing towards. The sword had been just off to the side of the cave he had been before.

Racing to catch up, Soryn leaped as far as he could, fighting the current and the torrent of water raining from above. Lashing out with his fists, Gaius tried to keep the lead. Initially, Soryn obliged him, backing off and instead, circling around wide to reach the ground faster.

When Gaius reached the sword, he twirled around, furiously swinging it at Soryn until he backed him into a corner.

As Gaius made for the final blow, Soryn caught the blade between his hands. Holding it in place, he could feel it cutting into his palms. Screaming at the top of his lungs, he shifted the blade to the side, driving it in a wedge between the rocks and slammed his elbow against the side. To the surprise of both, the blade fell from the hilt, falling into the water while the grip stayed in its wielder's hands.

Diving after it, Soryn plucked the blade out before it sank out of view and drove it into Gaius' abdomen, twisting it for good measure, cutting his left hand on its edge.

As he winced from the pain, Gaius kicked Soryn to the ground and slammed his foot against Soryn's arm. A loud crack signaled the boy's arm break against the stone floor, followed by a scream of pain.

While Gaius worked at removing the blade, Soryn wriggled away. Slipping his knife belt around the broken appendage, he tightened with his good arm, writhing in agony. As his vision cleared, Gaius affixed his hands around his neck, dragging him into the water and submerging his head.

Struggling against the larger tribute's strength, Soryn reached for Gaius' face and drove his fingers at the first soft object he could find: Gaius' right eye. When his opponent recoiled, Soryn pulled his knee up and kicked at his groin, shoving himself away from him in addition to throwing him off balance.

Drawing himself out of the water, he kept his hand open, rapping the joints of his fingers against Gaius' abdomen and back, taking shots at his face with his elbow intermittently.

Gaius gave as good as he got, smashing his fist against Soryn's torso, cracking his ribs as he slipped on the rocks. Ambling to his target, he slammed his elbow against Soryn's back, knocking him down again and landing a kick against his ribs, fully breaking the ones that had been cracked.

When Gaius went for another kick, Soryn knocked the other foot from underneath him, destabilizing the other with his good arm when he tried to regain his balance. The boy crashed down, and Soryn jumped on top of him, smashing against his chest before going to work on his face in a relentless barrage of punches.

Slapping Soryn off, Gaius grabbed him, hoisting him above his head, and slamming him against the rock. Blood spewed from both of their mouths, their injuries taking their toll. Gaius stood over Soryn, water dripping off him steadily, turning into a silhouette against the sky. He dropped his, slowly and deliberately on Soryn neck as he began to suffocate the boy once more.

With a sudden burst of energy, Soryn reached for a small rock, smashing it against Gaius' face. He fell slowly, as if gravity had only the slightest effect on him. Blood trickled from his broken nose as he rolled over, gasping.

A gleam from the broken blade caught Soryn's eye. Dragging himself towards it, he gingerly picked it up and forced himself to his feet to get to Gaius' prone form. The other boy eyed him as he approached, too weak and hurt to move.

As he reached his side, Soryn's legs gave out, dropping him to his knees. He lifted the blade, point placed on Gaius' chest.

"Don't worry." Gaius said, his breath thin and raspy. "It has to end this way."

Even when he tried leaning, Soryn could not generate the necessary force to finish him off. Summoning his last reserves of strength, Gaius moved his hand to the hilt of the blade, steadying Soryn's quivering hand and pulling it along.

"Do it." He wheezed.

With a quick thrust, the metal pierced Gaius' flesh. As the life faded from his body, Gaius managed to muster a sad smile. The rain tapered off from a torrential downpour to a steady fall. Soryn let go of the sword, and closed his fallen opponent's eyes. His own strength gave out shortly after, slumping to the ground next to the deceased tribute. To relieve the pressure off of his cracked ribs, he rolled onto his back.

Laying on the ground in dissonant serenity, Gaius' blood mingled with Soryn's and with the water. The cold began seeping into him, causing him to shiver, even though it hurt to do so. The rain masked the few tears that ran down his face, he stuffed the sobs away as the crept to up his throat. It hurt too much to cry.

Above him, he could hear voices booming over the arena. The national anthem sounded warbled to him. The few words he could make out were those Calliste announcing the end of the Seventh Hunger Games.

"It's over." He thought bitterly.

It seemed like hours instead of a minute before the familiar hum of hovercraft filled the air.

/-\\\

The following days were a blur. Sometimes he could hear voices, some more distinctly than others. At times he felt like he was so deeply asleep, he thought he was dead. Any time that happened, he could vaguely feel the aches, pain. Occasionally, he could see light. It stung his eyes, but warmed him.

Over time dreams and nightmares return, coming and going. Dreams were of home, his family, or even the dreams that had plagued him ever since his home had burned.  
The nightmares were the faces of those he had killed, accusing him of selfishness, blaming him for the pain he had caused. More unsettling were the ones that thanked him.

The worst ones were the broken and decayed tributes standing over him. Those he had seen when or how they had fallen, their injuries as vivid as when they had died. The dagger still protruded from Ruby's eye. Blood welled from the numerous slashed Philyp had suffered from Soryn's attacks. Poison dripped from Jett's mouth.

Dirt, mud, and dried blood clung to them. They stood there, doing absolutely nothing but stare at Soryn while he was unable to move.

It continued, the rising and falling, the dreams and nightmares, day in, day out, repeating over and over until he worried he would forget the notion of time altogether.

Suddenly, it felt like he was dropped into an infinite abyss of white. A hand reached out, pulling him up till he stood face to face with Saerah. Next to her were Jack and Nylia. All of them were clean. Whole.

Without a word, they turned and walked off. When he chased after them they faded away. He stretched out his arm…

/-\\\

Soryn shot up in his bed. The pale lights of the Capitol hospital gave the room an eerie glow that clashed with the light of the sunrise coming through the window. He reached for his sides expecting pain, but to his surprise, all of his wounds were patched up and well healed, only faint scars could be seen on the worst of his injuries. Looking under the covers, he tested his toes. All of the responded to his command, even the stub.

A nurse came through the door, much more conservative in appearance than most other citizens. She wordlessly checked on the machines monitoring his health.

"How long has it been?" Soryn asked, his voice raspy.

The nurse looked at him, eyebrow raised. "It has been just over a month since the end of the Seventh Hunger Games." She replied. "Congratulations, by the way."

Soryn grunted. The woman took it as an acknowledgement and left the room.

When the door closed, he threw the covers off and swung himself out of bed. The floor was cold as his toes touched it. Ignoring the discomfort, he slowly slipped off the bed, leaning on the railing for stability.

To his surprise, his legs did not feel as weak as he would have expected after sitting in a bed for a month. Still, he followed the wall to the bathroom where he looked at the mirror. The scars that he would have expected to be there were faded, less gnarly than they would have been back in District Twelve.

Before he could inspect the Capitol's work any further, he heard someone knocking at the door.

"Impressed?" "It's something I've been tweaking over the years. It removes scarring almost entirely. I imagine, given a few years, or maybe even a decade, we will be able to surmount even that hurdle."

"The man has pride in is work" Soryn thought, but it felt like he was boasting to him.

What was he supposed to be? Relieved? Grateful?

Just looking at them stirred a hatred deep within him. But they were expecting a triumphant warrior. He would give them that. He had done well hiding his thoughts from them before, he could do it now.

He gritted his teeth under his lips, then relaxed his jaw to smile. "Thank you." he said, masking his contempt with a veil of politeness.

/-\\\

The next few days were devoted to his recovery. His time spent resting was, to his gratitude, spent in solitude. When he was cleared to leave, he was escorted by Mizzie and Hunter to the training center.

Mizzie pranced off, Hunter turned to Soryn, handing him a simple looking box. Remarkably, he was completely sober, his features softened and relaxed.

"Here are your things." he said with a hint of reverence, but also relief.

Nodding his acceptance, Soryn took the box.

"It looks like you'll be taking over my job."

"I guess so."

"At any rate, I don't think we'll be seeing each other again anytime soon, but..." he paused and offered his hand. "May you have the strength to bear this task."

When Soryn shook his hand, he could see just the slightest hint of an earnest smile.  
"I'll leave you alone."

The first thing Soryn did was go to Saerah's room. The place had been swept clean of any trace that she had ever been there. He plopped on the bed, musing the similarities of the room. His attention returned to the box.

It was more like a chest, latches holding the top in place. Littering the inside were the meager things he had on his person when he had been retrieved from the arena. The locket had come through almost completely undamaged, though the chain had been clearly replaced. The tooth rolled around the bottom as he shifted the box around.

Everything, both from the arena and before, seem like a far off dream. Rolling the tooth in his hand brought those memories back to the front of his mind.

There was a rapping on the door.

"Soryn?" Mizzie called out.

"Yes?" he answered.

"Your prep team will be here soon, and Carlynne is already waiting for you."

Securing the box, Soryn went to meet his stylist.

"You've probably heard enough congratulations already. I won't pester you with any more."

Soryn smirked.

"I hear you'll have access to a phone here soon. You can call me."

"Hopefully I'll have time to do that. I hear that Victors don't get to sleep much for the rest of the year from all the pestering."

"At any rate, I've already laid out the clothes you will be wearing in your room."  
"I guess I better get changed here soon."

After the last interview, Soryn was whisked away to the train.

/-\\\

Nash stood with his arms crossed behind his back. He could barely contain his excitement. He only did so for the sake of appearances. It would not do to have others hear the nature of his arrangements. And until a proper transfer could take place, he was still in charge.

The hovercraft settled over the district, docking on the primary landing pad. The whine from the engines tapered down and the bay door lowered, allowing his replacement disembark.

Marching straight to Nash, the man snapped to attention and saluted. "Peacekeeper Marius Denton, assuming command of the Panem Forces in District Twelve. I hereby relieve you of your post."

Slightly smirking, Nash returned his salute. "Very well."

"I see you're traveling light."

"I had most of my possessions shipped out this morning."

"It doesn't matter. I can make do with what I have here for the time being."

Marius slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and walked past the former Head Peacekeeper.

"Good luck." Nash said, walking to the hovercraft.

Marius paused, glancing over his shoulder. "To you as well."

Climbing onto the vehicle, the familiar scent of the Capitol filled his nostrils. The hovercraft was a luxury model compared to the ones he had seen used by the Peacekeepers.

Cassius was already seated, rising to meet Nash with a handshake.

"Welcome back." said Cassius. "Have a seat."

"This is more like it." Nash said, easing himself into a large chair across from his friend.

Soon, they were in the air. Looking out the window, Nash grinned as District Twelve disappeared from view.

"Shall I call for a drink?" Cassius offered.

"Yes, please." Nash answered eagerly.

Pressing the call button, the request was forwarded. In short order, an Avox emerged from the galley carrying a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice.

"A toast." Cassius said, filling both of their glasses.

"To future successes." Nash declared, downing his glass.

While Nash was distracted, Cassius placed the glass back in its holder, having not taken a sip from it. Nash was seized with horror when his body failed to respond to his command. Cassius stood up, looking at Nash with a mixture of disdain and pity.

"I am sorry, Cepheus."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see someone step out of the cockpit. The person walked just out of his view, resting his hand on his shoulder in a vice-like grip.

"Hello, Nash." Iacchus whispered into his ear. The normally charming, charismatic commentator's voice was chilling. "You've been quite...meddlesome as of late. Seriously, you disturbed quite the well-laid psychology experiment."

From the corners of the room, shadows peeled from thin air, black longcoats and stern faces. The approached him, like a pack of wolves.

"We are not without contingencies," Iacchus continued. "Nor are we without patience and mercy. But you've more than tested our limits of both as of late. It's about time you learned the price for interfering with our work."

The men picked Nash up from his chair, carrying the paralyzed man to the back. The hovercraft slowed, hovering high above the land when the rear bay door opened. Wind whipped around the opening, tussling their hair.

Nash tried to scream, to plead. He was prepared to beg. Still, his jaw declined to pass his words to the people preparing to dispose of him, hoping that, against all odds, he would be granted mercy. Not that they would have cared in the slightest, or be the least bit moved as they carried him closer to the edge.

He had barely managed a single grunt when Iacchus turned and smirked.

"So long, old buddy." He said cheerily.

At that, the men in black coats wordlessly pitched Nash off the hovercraft, sending him plummeting back to the Earth somewhere between the districts.

/-\\\

The ride back to District Twelve was a solemn affair. Soryn sat in silence, reflecting on his experiences.

Here he was, a survivor of the Hunger Games. A Victor. A life spared at the expense of many more. A life he had no intention of wasting.

He would see the Capitol's reign of terror end.

\\\\-/

**That's a wrap for this portion of the story. I will give it a proper closure in the future in the form of a sequel, but in the meantime, Soryn Lockwood's story will be on hold while I work on other projects.**

**If you are a fan of the Dragon Age series, try checking out the Apocalyptian Saga.**

**Please review. I am always interested in improving my writing.**


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